


Fun is a Matter of Perspective

by Quarra, xantissa



Series: No Wolves Allowed [11]
Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Action, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Blood, Blow Jobs, Cuddle Pile, Cuddling, Detective Work, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Don’t copy to another site, Dracula is a creeper, Dubious Consent Cuddling, Dubious Consent Touching, Dubious-consensual body modification, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen (or the magical equivalent of that), Sex while stoned, Sloppy Seconds, Smut, Some Humor, Starvation, Torture, UST, Violence, Weapons Grade UST, Whump, graphic depiction of injury, relationship building, the dreaded het, vampire porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 87,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: Dracula is the King of Hell. One of Geralt’s enemies doesn't realize this, and tries to have him kidnapped. Dracula thinks this is fucking hilarious, and plays along. Now his lovers must 'rescue' him. Eskel gets to be a witness to this little bodice ripper scenario...whether he wants to or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from Quarra:  
> A very huge thanks to [Dira Sudis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis) for beta reading this. I cannot say how much I appreciate it, you are a rock star.
> 
>  
> 
> This story takes place about six months after [No Wolves Allowed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743112/chapters/39277615). For this to make any sense, you should probably read that, plus ....most of the others, to be honest, but [Wolf Stories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194730), [Family Intervention](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358785), and [Therapy Witcher](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416463) are the ones that will have major impact.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Spoiler Notes At The End**  
>  Please check this if you are at all worried about some of the stuff that shows up in the tags.

It wasn’t like Eskel had never been ambushed before. It happened. Honestly, it happened with a disgusting frequency. But that was the life of a witcher. 

No, what really pissed him off was that they were so goddamn well prepared. Whoever it was who’d grabbed him, they’d been watching him, and for a long time. At least a few weeks, taking in his habits and his patterns. 

He’d noticed the watching, of course, but it had been the fucking city guard that was watching him and that happened everywhere he went. The joys of being a witcher. The hostile eye was nothing new.

But either the guard was on the take, or they were working with whoever grabbed him. They’d set a fat bounty on a local wyvern nest. It was dangerous, sure, but the reward was too good to pass up, and killing dangerous things was what witchers were _for_. 

No sooner had the fight been finished and all six wyverns in the nest dead, than a group of soldiers charged in from the surrounding treeline. They’d waited and watched as Eskel fought, waited until he was tired and bloody, until his potions ran out.

He didn’t go down easy, nor did he fall alone. At least a dozen of the bastards took their last breath in that stupid field, but there were plenty more. Not even his Signs were enough to handle the sheer numbers they tossed at him. 

When Eskel woke up he was in a dungeon, chained to a wall. He had broken bones, he was sure, and one eye wouldn’t even open from the swelling. His body burned with all the bruising and he felt at least one tooth that was a little too loose. 

As he waited for whoever it was who took him to come down and gloat, he seethed with rage. Because on top of the beating and kidnapping, he didn’t get a chance to collect his bounty on the wyverns. Not even the goddamn trophies that he could sell off later.

All this shit and he wouldn’t even get _paid_. 

They let him sit for a good long while. He didn’t expect any food or water, so he wasn’t surprised at all when he was left to rot for more than a couple days, stomach twisting in on itself and lips cracking from thirst. In addition to the small window high up on the adjacent wall, there was a shaft of sunlight that fell through a hole in the ceiling on the far side of the stone room. It was just enough to mark the time with, and Eskel found himself grateful for it. The pain wasn’t worse than the absolute boredom of being chained up all day. He spread his legs and rested his back against the wall, settling in as best as he could.

Every day he spent some time trying to meditate. He had already experimented with getting himself into a healing trance while standing up, and had some success. It wasn’t nearly as useful as settling into a properly restful position, but it helped pass the time at least. 

He drifted up periodically, doing his best to move his hands and tense his muscles enough to force some circulation into his fingers. It wouldn’t matter in the long run; his arms would eventually go numb. As a witcher, he could stand torture longer, but even he would succumb. That was just biology. 

The legs were an easier thing to deal with. Switching his weight from one leg to the other between bouts of meditation helped keep the discomfort beneath his pain threshold level. Really it was the hunger and thirst that were the most inconvenient. Lack of food meant his healing would get less and less effective over time, and lack of water would get deadly very quick, witcher enhancements or no. 

Time passed and he was only peripherally aware of the beam of sunlight travelling the floor, indicating the passage of time. The misery of his situation became just a background noise as he kept his heartbeat low and mind adrift. His body ached and burned, both from the awful thirst that took him as well as the unholy burn of being kept in such a terrible position. Meditation became an escape as well as a method to heal.

A full three days into his kidnapping he finally got a bit of company. The noise of heavy latches opening pulled him out of his trance and into the miserable reality of numb hands, aching legs and the stink of his body relieving itself without his ability to control. It was the guards who came in first. One with a bucket of water, and the others with clubs. 

_Well, that looks promising_ , he thought. 

Half the bucket got dumped over his head, and he found himself licking as much of the moisture off his lips and face as he could. No food wasn’t so bad, but no water could get dangerous fast. He’d been chained there for long enough that his bones were well on their way to mending, but he still wasn’t in great shape. Wouldn’t be without food and water.

“Time t’ wake up!” one of the guards yelled. “Boss is comin’ t’ see you and he’s got questions.”

Eskel blinked at him, shuddering at the sticky feel of the leather of his armor soaking in water. He hated how it felt against his body, all sodden and heavy.

“The fuck does he think I know?” he growled out. Years ago he’d taken a claw swipe to the throat, leaving his voice forever rough and harsh, but it was even worse after having been thirsty for days. 

“Guess you’ll find out,” the guard sneered at him. “Fuckin’ mutant. We can’t have any of your smart mouth, though, so we’re just gonna give you a little incentive to be cooperative, yeah?”

Nothing he hadn’t heard before. Mutant, freak, anything and everything in between. The insults didn’t even register anymore.

The beating that followed was uninspired, and the longer it went on, the madder Eskel became. They used clubs and fists, re-breaking his ribs and leaving him wheezing and bleeding from the nose and mouth. 

_Fucking rank amateurs. Look at this shit, they aren’t even trying to aim for the right spots._

If they were going to sustain the pain, they should have avoided his face. If they wanted to keep him talking, they would have avoided his mouth. If they wanted to make sure he wasn’t able to walk, they should have hit his knees or other joints. Well, provided he didn’t die of asphyxiation before he could try to walk off.

Instead it was just a goddamn free for all. No plan, no reason, just senseless violence. Frankly, Eskel was fucking embarrassed for them. Amateurs.

The pain was truly awful, but not something he hadn’t been through before. At least it wasn’t poison or magic that would have burned him from the inside out. He did his best to accept the pain, let it wash over him. His disgust at the lack of professionality and seething anger at the whole situation wasn’t making it any easier.

“You better enjoy this while you can,” he rasped, and swallowing the blood filling his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” one of the guards said with a sneer.

They stepped back and another man stepped forward. He was average height, and wore thick quilted armor. His dark hair was cropped short and his pale skin was littered with old scars. What really caught Eskel’s eye, though, was the string of witcher medallions that hung off the man’s belt. There were three cat medallions and one wolf, his own damn medallion. Eskel felt its absence keenly right then. 

Here was a bastard that liked to hunt witchers. 

“Greetings, my friend,” the man said with a smile. Eskel rolled his eyes. Oh Gods, one of _those_ types. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

There was a long pause, as the bastard waited for Eskel to say something. Maybe he was hoping for something witty. This seemed like a guy who liked to have scintillating conversation while he was torturing people. 

Eskel just stared at him with the flattest, most unimpressed look he could manage even if the string of witcher amulets did send a frisson of tension through him. If nothing else, it meant he knew how to handle witchers and that meant bad things for Eskel. 

“Well. Perhaps civility is too much to ask.” The man smiled, the perfect picture of generosity. “My name is Ireneus var Steingard. Maybe you’ve heard of me? No? Pity. I’ve certainly heard of you witchers...”

Holy Gods, this man was going to talk Eskel to death. He soothed his boredom by imagining all the ways he was going to kill this idiot. A nice punch to the face would be a great start. He could almost feel the crunch of the bone under his fist.

“I’ve made it a, well, a bit of a life’s work to examine your unique enhancements.” 

That caused Eskel to jerk his head up in surprise. Fuck. Fuck, that was bad. Mages everywhere had been after the secrets of the witcher trials for as long as there had been witchers. There was a reason they were kept so secret. They were dangerous, and nine out of ten boys who attempted them died. If this asshole, whoever he was, was after that information and gods forbid trying to recreate it, he would be leaving a trail of bodies behind him twenty furlongs wide. Eskel haven't heard of more bodies appearing in the area, but it only meant that this guy knew how to hide his tracks. Sadly, with as many wars as the Northern kingdoms had gone through in recent years, there was no shortage of unwanted children and destitute families travelling in search of a better fate. The poorest were always the easiest marks, nobody paying attention to one less beggar here or there. 

Now was the time to get as much information as he could, even if Eskel would rather spit up nails than talk to this asshole. 

“I’m afraid I’m not gonna be much help with that. Not like us plain old witchers get all the secrets.” All he had to do was keep this idiot talking, then he’d have a better idea of what he was up against here. Not that it would do him a lot of good, what with being stuck against a wall and all that. But he, Geralt, Lambert, and Vesemir kept tabs on each other. Eventually one of them would notice he’d gone missing, and they’d look into it. All he had to do was hold out until then. 

Besides, this jackass looked like he enjoyed talking. Might as well give him the opportunity.

“Oh, not to worry, friend. I have uses for you.” Because of course he fucking did. “Although, I am just a trifle disappointed.” The expression on Steingard’s face was actually apologetic. “I had hoped that it would be Geralt who fell into my nicely baited trap.”

Eskel did not laugh, because his ribs hurt too hard for that. If it was Geralt, this ridiculous bunch of thugs would be nothing but demon food by now. He couldn’t imagine one or both of the vampires not noticing Geralt was suddenly missing. Not after Alucard admitted to sending tracking spells after him.

“That Geralt,” Eskel rasped out. “Making friends wherever he goes. You looking for the secret to his pretty white hair?”

That actually made Steingard pause and frown. “What do you mean?”

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit_. 

Maybe he was more messed up than he thought. Those witchers who were left from the Wolf School knew that Geralt was more enhanced than the rest of them, but that was probably it. It couldn’t have been common knowledge outside their group of friends. And now he’d just hinted at it to this loony jackoff. 

He grinned and tried to play it off. “Everyone likes the white hair.”

“Hmmmmmm.” Steingard frowned and slowly walked his way around Eskel in a half circle. He held his arms easily behind his back, pacing as if out for a pleasant stroll. “Geralt of Rivia killed my last experimental subject, and right as it was getting interesting too. A failure, surely, but I made such progress on that one. I was hoping to return the favor…”

He paused to eye Eskel up and down. The eeriest part was how calculating he looked. Like Eskel wasn’t even a person, just a piece of meat to be weighed and measured. That was the most terrifying part so far, to know that to this man, all Eskel would ever be was a _thing_.

“You know, there were interesting rumours about him recently,” Steingard said, leaning in so close Eskel could smell the spiced wine on his breath. Fuck, he was hungry. “They say he hasn’t been spending his coin in the brothels after a hunt. It’s been months now, long enough that people have started speculating there’s a missus somewhere.”

Eskel blinked, grateful for his swollen face as it probably obscured whatever his face was showing. _Missus_. He thought of the terrifyingly large wolf Alucard could turn into or the way Dracula wielded power as if it was easier than breathing for him. He would love, _love_ , to see this guy saying that to Dracula’s face. He would pay for it even.

An awful, awful thought came to mind. 

Surely Dracula wouldn’t mind if Eskel sent him some company. Hell, he’d probably get a kick out of eating them. And if that caused Dracula to hunt him down afterwards to kill him, well, at least Eskel would be found. He’d probably have a better chance with Dracula’s wrath than he would Steingard’s cold, predatory interest. 

He had to play this right, though. Come off too eager and Steingard would never buy it.

“Fuck you. You already have me, you don’t need to go looking for them,” he spit out, and lurched forward a bit in his chains, as if to make a grab. All for show. He knew damn well he couldn’t reach anything.

“ _Them_.” Steingard’s eyes lit up like it was a holiday. “Oh, now I really want to know. You should tell me. I want to give them a little wedding gift. Something they’ll always remember. I owe Geralt, after all.”

Eskel bared his teeth. This next part was going to suck. Hard.

Because now he had to convince Steingard that he really didn’t want to say anything. He was gonna have to put up with whatever the man could come up with, giving out the information a little bit at a time. Enough to be believable, but not so slowly that Eskel was too damaged to care. 

When the silence stretched on for more than a minute, Steingard sighed dramatically. That was just for show, too, because Eskel could see just how damn pleased the bastard was. “Well. I’m sure I can persuade you to tell me.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel spat, making sure to spray blood and saliva across the nice clothes of his captor. At the very least, Geralt or his vamps would be able to smell his blood on this guy and be warned in time.

“Now, now. No more of that. Your blood is precious, and I’m going to need all of it that I can get.” Steingard didn’t even bother wiping it off of his dark, armored top. He just grinned, like a fucking jackal. Then he took a few steps back. “I can’t start the procedures just yet. You would become non-verbal too quickly. Do you know, the last witcher I tried them on only lasted four days? _Four days_. Then his mind was gone. His body was still useful, though.”

Now Eskel knew what this was about. He glanced at the Cat School medallions hanging from the man’s belt. Some time ago, Geralt had to put down a crazed witcher. He’d been tortured to insanity, and become possessed.

Here was the man who was responsible. 

Cold, slithering dread filled Eskel up, and he started to pray that Dracula was as vengeful a monster as everyone thought he was. 

“First, I’d like to know where to find Geralt’s lovely wife. Tell me quickly, and I promise you’ll be rewarded.” The smile on Steingard’s face was pleasant and entreating. 

“You hard of hearing?” Eskel asked bracing himself. “Didn’t you hear me telling you to go fuck yourself?”

“So be it.” If anything, Steingard only looked more pleased. 

He stayed to watch as the guards continued their work. This time the guards were more careful, going for body shots over and over again, until even Eskel had trouble staying on his feet.

In the end, Eskel did talk. Hell, he wanted to. He wanted to see all those bastards burn in Dracula’s hellfire. Watch them get consumed utterly. But the pain was also becoming a problem. He held out for as long as seemed believable, and then spilled out his poison trap.

“Kaer Morhen,” Eskel said wetly. At this point, his mouth was filled with blood. It ran down his face in streams. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore, and the chains on his wrists pulled at his arms, stretching them out as his shoulders took the brunt of his weight. Something was gurgling deep in his lungs when he breathed, as much as he could breathe with his ribs broken again.

“What was that?” Steingard was sipping a cup of something. Just looking at it made Eskel’s throat burn. He swallowed a mouthful of blood, and it stung as it went down. The guards' fists and clubs were coated with it. Fuck, he hoped they went personally to go fetch Alucard and Dracula.

“Geralt’s lovers...are at...Kaer Morhen.” Each word was a fight to get out. Even if it was just a stupid trap, it absolutely rankled to give out the information. He hated it. He hated it like poison. Kaer Morhen was their home, even if they were only there but briefly in the winter time. The idea of sending invaders there, no matter how doomed they were, made him want to vomit. 

“Lovers? As in, more than one?” Steingard looked supremely amused. 

“Vampires,” Eskel gasped out. “High born.”

“And you let them in your home fortress? Astonishing. It seems the rumors about Geralt of Rivia aren’t all hogwash after all. Vampire lovers, indeed.” Steingard practically cackled.

This was it, the chance to sell his plan even better.

“For protection,” he admitted, letting his head sink low and slump onto his chest. “Safer there.”

“Yes. So much safer,” Steingard purred. “You’ve been such a help. Time for your reward.”

He motioned to one of the guards, who picked up the now-forgotten half filled bucket of water. Then the guard slowly let it trickle over Eskel’s face, washing away the blood and allowing him to guzzle the water down as best he could. 

“They’ll bring you water regularly now. No sense in letting you waste away before I can start my work.” And with that, Steingard walked out. The guards followed suit.

Now all he had to do was wait. Wait and maybe not die. 

\--

The vampire was of average height, built thick, his body indicating he kept in shape, probably some sword fighting judging by how he distributed his weight. His thick black cloak stretched over his form like water, moulding unnaturally over his body. The deep hood was ornamented with a pretty golden design that Lederg was sure would net them some hefty coin if they took it off him. From under the deep hood only the barest flashes of dark hair and pale skin were visible. The vampire seemed unarmed, no sword at his side and no other obvious weapons where Lederg could see.

Perfect. Clearly the monster was overconfident. Well, Lederg was pretty fucking confident too. He and his boys were all outfitted to hunt creatures just like him. Boss had sprung for silver swords and silver manacles. The filthy vampires were apparently vulnerable to it. They already were well armored, otherwise. Bash and grab duty was a standard for them in Steingard’s employ. 

“Are you Dracula or Alucard?” Gorazd asked from behind Lederg, always too eager, not a shred of patience to the oaf. Lederg nodded his head to the rest, giving them the signal to spread out, cutting off the vampire’s route of escape. It was a bit of sheer good luck that they stumbled across the vampire before they even got into the keep, but it did mean that they’d have to be a bit more careful of him making a run for it.

“I am Dracula,” the man said, shifting to look over Lederg’s shoulder.

He was looking at the sword, the witcher’s silver sword that Lederg had won in a truly inspired round of dice. Lederg was not the sharpest knife in the holster maybe, but he wasn’t some dimwitted oaf like Bygost or Derwan. He knew how to play things _smart_. 

“Yeah, that’s right, you monster.” Lederg grinned evilly and drew the silver sword. “We know what can hurt you. Now you’re gonna come with us, nice and easy like, or I’m gonna stick this in you.”

“...In me?” The voice was quiet and soft, like a scared maiden. No wonder the witcher thought he needed to put his monster lovers in a fortress if this was an example of their bravery. Pale skinned pussies, the lot of them.

“Boss says we can’t kill you, but that don’t mean we can’t hurt you. Now come along, before you test my patience.” 

Lederg waved again, and Mezamir walked forward with the manacles in hand. The rest of them raised their weapons, just in case. 

The vampire looked at them, turning in a half circle and then back to Lederg with his silver sword. He was silent for a long minute, long enough Lederg’s arms started trembling with the effort of keeping the long blade raised.

“...Don’t hurt me.” The words came in a whisper, terror probably stealing the monsters voice. What the hell did that witcher see in this thing? It was so scared and so weak. Well, maybe that was the appeal. He could do whatever he wanted with it.

“If you go with us all quiet like, I won’t have to,” Lederg promised. “You don’t want to make me be unpleasant, right?”

“Where are you taking me?” came another whispered question and Lederg grinned.

“Don’t you worry about that.” Then he called in Gorazd. “Chain him with the silver shackles.”

“Please,” the vampire flinched back hard. “Not the silver.”

Lederg could hear the chuckles coming from his boys. This was the easiest job ever, even easier than that time they had to get four kids for their employer. And there was nothing easier than taking some screaming kids from stupid peasants.

The vampire held out its arms meekly as Gorazd and Mezamir got the shackles around its wrists. When the silver touched the pale wrists, the vampire gasped in pain and flinched fruitlessly from them. The boys kept it in check though, Mezamir cuffing it on its head.

“Keep that pretty hood on it. We don’t want it getting burned before we hand it over. Boss’ll want to do that himself,” Lederg said with a leer. “But don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re gonna leave a nice little note for your witcher freak. If he really loves you, he’ll come running to save you. And if not, well.” He shrugged, and let his eyes wander up and down the vampire’s body, taking in the fine fabrics and bare chest under its coat. “We get to have our fun.”

“.......No. Not that,” the vampire said softly, clearly holding back its emotions. Trying to keep a brave face. Well that wouldn’t last. 

As soon as the manacles were fastened securely, Lederg sauntered up and grabbed a fist full of the vampire’s hair. The silver sword was a bit long for it, but he liked the intimidation factor of using it to cut off a lock. They’d need some kind of token to leave with the note for the witcher. Hair was the perfect thing, and this monster sure had plenty of it. 

Then he noticed all the rings on the vampire’s fingers. Expensive, beautiful gold rings with stones that shined like captive fire. He was sure they all had fancy names, but that was for the fence to figure out. All Lederg cared about was the profit. 

He almost regretted having to leave even one, mind already full of ideas about where to sell those rings and how much money he could get for them. They wouldn’t be leaving the whorehouse for a month, if not longer. This job was easily turning into one of the best they ever had. Not like the Boss didn’t pay well already, but this? This was a bonus.

“Your witcher really likes you all dolled up, doesn’t he?” Lederg scoffed. “Like a fucking tower princess. Wonder how many beasties he had to kill for these. He fuck you on silk sheets, too?”

The vampire didn’t respond; it only looked demurely at the ground. 

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. “We’ll leave the smallest ring with the hair,” he decided, putting the sword away and reached for the trembling fingers. It took a bit of time, yanking the rings off the pale fingers but eventually he had all six of them off and was threading the hair he cut off into the smallest and plainest one of them.

“Loverboy should recognize it, eh?” He fumbled with his pockets, looking for the slightly crumpled note the Boss gave him. Not like Lederg couldn’t write, of course he could, but Boss wanted something fancy.

He had to wrinkle the envelope a little more, leaving a smudge of dirt on the left edge, but finally had the ring and hair stuffed inside along the note.

“He will know,” came the thready voice. “The ring is a gift from him.”

More chuckles from his boys, most of which already holstered their weapons. Obviously sending all of them was overkill but who cared. Easy job, easy money, and a wimpy little vampire that could barely speak for itself.

“Gorazd,” Lederg handed him the envelope. “Leave that near the well in front of the main gate. Mezamir, get this freak up on the supply horse. Let’s get to some shelter before the sun fries our prize money into a pile of ash.” He pushed at the vampire’s shoulder, making him stumble.

“Easiest job I’ve ever done,” Lederg cackled as they walked off. “Fuckin’ witchers. Deserve what they got coming to them.”

\--

Eskel was jerked out of his meditative state by the clang of heavy bolts. The cell door was being opened. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus against the glare of the sun hitting him right in the face from the small window. His pupils kept expanding and contracting as he tried to peer into the dark entryway, the glare confusing his senses.

At first he only saw a figure in a black cloak being pushed into the cell. The figure, a male one, stumbled and would have fallen if it wasn't for one of the guards jerking hard at the shackles chaining his arms. 

“What the hell is this?” Eskel rasped out, his voice even worse than usual. It had been several days--maybe weeks, he didn’t know--since that first interrogation, and he was struggling to cope. The regular beatings continued, but true to his word, Steingard allowed him water once a day. He’d been chained up, struggling not to hang in his chains for too long at a time, for so long that if he’d been a normal human, his shoulders would have dislocated. At it was, only his briefly snatched patches of meditation kept him healing enough to stay conscious. He’d heal, and they’d beat him again, every day like clockwork.

“We brought you some company!” the guards announced laughingly. “A monster! We heard you lot like them, eh?”

With another series of loud clunks the new arrival was shackled to a metal ring on the opposite wall to Eskel.

“Have fun!” The mouthy guard laughed again and left the cell, the loud clangs signifying the heavy bolts being slid into place.

As soon as they were alone, the figure straightened up and shook off his hood.

Even half blinded by the glare of the sun, Eskel could recognize the long black hair, pale skin, and carefully managed goatee.

“Dracula?” Eskel blinked, stunned into stupidity by the sight.

“Yes,” the vampire answered absently, craning his neck to look through the tiny window in the heavy cell door.

“What are you doing here?” Eskel rasped through an aching throat, “and in those things?”

“I’m being kidnapped,” Dracula said with a voice full of…fuck Eskel, but was it _wonder_?

Dracula didn’t notice Eskel’s slack-jawed expression of horror. He was too busy shrugging out of his heavy shackles as if they were nothing but mist and looking over the dingy cellar with bright eyes.

Eskel, for the first time in his life, experienced true terror. Not when he was on the verge of death, not when that manticore was ripping his face and throat into shreds. Not even when he realized he could die in this dingy cellar. No. The moment of experiencing true horror was now, coming right on the heels of the realisation that _Dracula was having fun_.

“No,” he whispered. “No, that is not fucking possible.”

But Dracula just nodded at him. His eyes were bright and an incredibly pleased smile spread out on his face. “I have never been kidnapped before.”

All Eskel could do was stare with his jaw dropped. This was not happening. It was not. He refused to believe it. 

“Not even back when I was human!” Dracula enthused. “It’s exciting!”

Eskel stared at him.

Maybe this was a hallucination. Or perhaps some kind of trick by Steingard. Eskel was pretty sure the man was a mage. Maybe he was messing with Eskel’s mind. Or maybe they had poisoned the water. 

Surely.

It didn’t take long for Eskel to get too tired to hold up his head again. He should try to rest while he could. Maybe he’d gain a little sanity back before the guards stopped by again.

He let himself sag in his chains, with his chin nearly touching his chest. His hair helped block the bright sunlight in his eyes, though he knew that it would be gone soon enough. Eskel’s eyes fluttered closed and he attempted to meditate.

“Eskel.” The voice was low and deep, the sheer amount of power in it made his bones thrum. 

After a labored breath, he forced his head up again. Dracula was right in front of him, just out of range of the sunbeam that hit across Eskel’s face. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Dracula’s whole body seemed almost completely made of shadow. His features were only barely visible, but his eyes burned bright red. Black, wispy power drifted off of him, like flames made of the darkest ink, and the room seemed to shrink for a moment. Shadows oozed out of the very stone Eskel was chained to. Incredible pressure built up in the air around them, and the scent of fire and blood was nearly overwhelming.

That convinced him that he wasn’t hallucinating. Dracula really was there, and really was pretending to be caught. 

Eskel thought about answering, saying something, anything, but he was too tired. Everything hurt. He did try to raise his eyebrows, though, asking as best he could, _Yes? The fuck do you want?_.

“You’ve been here for days.” Dracula’s voice rumbled through Eskel’s bones. For the first time he really understood what Geralt meant when he said that Dracula’s power was a palpable thing. It roiled around him, filling up the space and coiling around Eskel’s body. Like it was alive. Curious tendrils reached up to touch Eskel, the walls, and the floor before they sank into the shadows noiselessly. It felt alien and inhuman, more so than any power Eskel had felt before. There was almost a sentience to it that was incredibly disturbing. 

He nodded, once, and let his head droop again. The guards would be coming back, and soon. 

Warmth curled up around his legs, hotter than the sunlight on his face and shoulders. Whatever it was lifted him up, letting him rest his full weight on something other than his wrists and shoulders. A ragged groan escaped from him; the relief was so great that he nearly wept with it.

“Rest while you can,” Dracula said quietly, and the pressure in the room receded a bit. Even the shadows in the room went back to their normal, dingy selves. “They’ll be back soon.”

Eskel leaned his head up and screwed up the energy to talk again. “How did they take you?” 

The smile he got in return was equal parts gleeful and disbelieving. “Six of them showed up at Kaer Morhen. They had silver swords and silver shackles.”

That still did not explain how the fucking King of Hell got kidnapped by a group of fucking yokels with Eskel’s stolen stuff. He raised a single eyebrow and hoped that would express his point to Dracula. When Dracula just sat there and grinned at him, he tried again.

“And you---” Eskel paused to swallow. Fuck, his throat hurt. “You just...went with them?”

Now the fire was back in Dracula’s eyes. “They smelled like you. Your blood. One of them had your sword. I thought it might be interesting to see what they’d been up to. Also, they threatened to harm me.” Now Dracula was clearly fucking giggling, one clawed hand covering his mouth. 

Eskel stared. 

What the fuck even was his life.

While the pressure was off his tender, bloody wrists, Eskel took a minute to carefully flex his fingers. He almost tried to rotate his wrists, but they’d long since swelled tight to the metal cuffs. At the aborted move, the shadows that were supporting him inched over his arms, sliding cool and soft over his strained muscles. They slid between the cuffs and Eskel's swollen wrists, somehow fitting where there wasn't any space. They felt blessedly cold and smooth against his abraded skin, easing the pain.

“Please tell me we’re leaving now and on our way out you’re going to kill them all.” He barely got the words out. 

Dracula’s eyes grew wide and he parted his lips in a faint gasp. It was almost a perfect expression of terrified shock, except for how his eyes crinkled up in mirth. 

“Oh no!” Dracula was shaking his head, the grin still firmly on his lips. “Geralt is coming to save us!”

Of _course_ he was.

With a deep sigh, Eskel closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the stone wall. Clearly, Dracula thought he was playing along. “I think I hate you,” he said softly.

Dracula just laughed at him. _Asshole_. 

Then the shadowy whatever-the-fuck that was holding Eskel up slowly drifted away, and he was once again hanging from his wrists. Somehow, it hurt even more after a few minutes of relief.

“They’re coming. Act natural,” Dracula said quietly from across the room. He was already back in his chains, and his black hood was drawn over his face once more. 

Un-fucking-believable.

Eskel just stared. He honestly hadn’t seen this coming. Maybe he should have.

Sure enough, the guards came tromping down the stairs and into the room, and with them was Steingard. The man looked so damn smug he practically oozed it out.

“Well, well. Hello, Dracula was it?” Steingard’s voice dripped condescension. He began to pace around Dracula, just as he did with Eskel during their first interrogation. “Geralt’s vampire lover. How pleasant to meet you.”

Then Eskel watched, his jaw dropped in disbelief, as Dracula seemed to cower into the wall. 

Cower. 

_Dracula_ just cowered. Actually hid his face in his cloak and _shivered in place_. 

But the way Dracula’s head was tilted gave Eskel just a little bit of a peek of what was under that hood. The bastard was _laughing_. Silently, sure, but he was actually fucking trembling with the need to not bust a gut. 

Something about the quality of Eskel’s silence must have tipped off Steingard, because he glanced over to see Eskel gawking at them.

“Didn’t think I’d be able to do it? Hmm. Most witchers are ridiculously overconfident. It’s one of your great weaknesses.” The irony _burned._ “Geralt thought Kaer Morhen would be able to keep his lovers safe. Clearly, he didn’t remember his history well enough. My men didn’t have any trouble at all breaking in and catching their prey.”

Just thinking about the keep being sullied with this asshole’s filth made rage burn bright in Eskel again. He was going to rip Steingard apart, first chance he got. Watch him fucking bleed, and then see if Alucard wanted a taste. At least _he_ probably wouldn’t be an asshole about it. 

“Now what,” Eskel asked. 

“Now…” Steingard stepped closer to Dracula and pulled back his hood. Dracula winced back from the sunlight across the room, and hid his face in his hands. 

The sad part was, Steingard probably thought he was moving quickly when he reached out to grab a handful of Dracula’s hair. It looked more like flailing to Eskel, and he could only guess how hilariously inept it looked to Dracula. 

“Holy fuck, Geralt is gonna be pissed you touched his hair.” The words fled out of Eskel's mouth before he could even stop them. When he spoke, Steingard turned to look at Eskel, smirking evilly. So he totally missed the smug smile that flashed across Dracula’s face. 

“Then he’ll be furious that my men cut off a bit to leave with the ransom note.”

Ransom note. 

After that, all Eskel could think of was the nonplussed look that would surely be on Geralt’s face as he read that shit. Alucard was gonna cry from frustration. Just fucking cry.

If it weren’t for the fact that Eskel knew that Dracula could reform his body at will, he’d be tempted to agree with Steingard’s assessment. Geralt was very much a fan of pretty hair; both he and Alucard had overshared enough to Eskel about that particular fetish. On a semi-related note, it was a good thing witchers had an amazing poison tolerance, because otherwise Eskel would have died of alcohol poisoning weeks ago. 

Also, Dracula let them cut off a bit of his hair? Really?

Another deep, pained sigh left Eskel’s suffering body. 

“As I was saying.” Steingard pulled back Dracula’s head, showing his neck. What, exactly, he was getting at with that gesture, Eskel wasn’t really sure. Was he going to take a bite? Seemed unlikely. Was he just trying to angle for some intimidation points? Possibly, but if so he was hitting up the wrong crowd. Maybe he just heard the word ‘vampire’ and couldn’t stop thinking of necks?

“Now we wait for Geralt to contact us, and then I get another witcher to experiment on.” The words turned low and pleased. He dropped Dracula’s head, and Dracula hung there, cringing. Then Steingard turned appraising eyes back on Eskel. “Maybe I should start on this one now. He seems weak enough. If I work fast, I might be able to drive him mad before Geralt arrives. Then I can have him kill his friend first. Soften him up.”

That caused Eskel to bare his teeth and growl, low and mean. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could fight Steingard off, not now, not as hurt as he was. But he would be damned if he’d just lay there and take whatever the bastard tried to dish out. 

“Geralt will come for us,” Dracula said softly. There was a hint of a tremble in his voice. Quite frankly, Eskel didn’t know how Dracula managed to keep himself from falling onto the ground laughing. “Sooner than you think! He’s very powerful.”

Holy shit, he was laying it on thick. Eskel would be more upset about it, but Steingard just lapped that shit up. It was kind of nice that Dracula was trying to deflect Steingard’s torture plans, too. That boded well for Dracula intervening more if any real effort was made in that direction. If it weren’t for the fact that Dracula could snap his fucking fingers and free them both, Eskel would probably be impressed by his performance. 

As it was, he was mostly just pissed off. 

Steingard frowned, and looked Eskel up and down. “Hmmm. It’s true, there is no telling how long it will take Geralt to get here. I’d rather not be two days into the process, and then need to stop to deal with him.” He turned to look at Dracula, who was still shivering with barely concealed laughter. “You’d best hope he gets here soon, because the longer I have to wait, the more parts I chop off. Or maybe I’ll let you starve down here, and see how long it takes for you to get thirsty enough to eat your witcher friend.”

There were so many things wrong with this whole little speech that Eskel actually sputtered with rage. 

First of all, high bred vampires didn’t need to drink blood. They still could, and often did, but their bloodlust didn’t rule them. For being a so-called learned man, Steingard knew fuck-all about actual goddamn monsters. 

Then there was the whole idea of Dracula being mad about missing a body part or two. That was so ridiculous that Eskel couldn’t even contemplate it further. 

“Oh, what’s the matter?” Steingard said, words dripping with faux innocence. “Don’t you like your friend’s lover enough to feed him if he gets hungry? Hopefully he can keep himself under control. It would be such a pity to see you drained.”

By this point, Dracula had retreated as far into the wall as he could, cringing away, shaking even. Eskel had to guess that it was because the laughter had gotten too much for him, and he was slowly dying from lack of air. 

Eskel, on the other hand, knew far too fucking well that Dracula liked to feed during sex. Just thinking about that particular situation only made Eskel’s face twist in distaste. He was thrilled Geralt was happy, but in no way did he want to put himself in the way of Dracula’s immediate attentions.

“Oooo, what a face,” Steingard said with a cruel chuckle. “I suppose we’ll all see how the next few days pan out.”

With that, he swept out of the room, and the guards trailed behind him.

Dracula froze, waiting still and silent for several long moments. Probably listening to Steingard and his bully buddies walk off.

That little theory was confirmed when Dracula suddenly fell to the floor and just howled with laughter.

Eskel tilted his head back and sighed, deep and pained, as the hysterical giggles washed over him. 

There were days he really fucking hated his life. 

\--

By the time Vesemir got back to Kaer Morhen, it was early evening. He hadn’t quite expected to be gone as long as he was, but the ghouls he’d been contracted to exterminate had multiplied faster than the bounty had suggested. 

He got the job done, but it was irritating, and he was happy to be home. Even though Kaer Morhen was home to a few more...individuals nowadays, he still felt a breath of relief upon entering the front gate.

Vesemir still had very mixed feelings about the keep’s new guests. Not that he had much say in the matter. Dracula went where he pleased, and Alucard followed. If the whole situation hadn’t left Geralt so obnoxiously, blindingly happy, Vesemir might have put up more of a fuss. Dracula had given his word that they would be no threat to the witchers who stayed there, and Vesemir believed him. Because of those things, Vesemir simply strived to tolerate the regular incursions of dark powers throughout the keep. 

That included the succubi randomly appearing in his bed. 

He still hadn’t quite figured out why they kept trying. Demons weren’t really to his taste. They left fairly peacefully once he reminded them of that fact, but they still showed up.

The whole thing made him shake his head. What had the Wolf school even come to? Vampires in the keep, and demons in their beds. Ridiculous. When _he_ was training as a young witcher, that sort of thing would have never happened.

But the sad truth was that times had changed. Their old ways were all but gone, possibly for the better. What was important now was keeping those who were left happy and in good shape. 

Vesemir didn’t actually expect anyone else at the keep. Maybe Dracula or Alucard. The two of them wandered about with alarming frequency. Geralt was out on a job, though this summer he’d been sticking closer to the keep than he normally did. Probably just so he could stop by and visit the vampires from time to time. 

So it was quite a surprise when he saw an envelope resting on the well near the main gate. 

He looked around, checking for an ambush, but nothing looked disturbed. Just in case, he unsheathed his steel sword. In general, humans left notes; monsters left body parts. 

The letter was a bit dirty, and somewhat worse for wear. Inside there was a ring, a note, and a lock of hair. 

Vesemir immediately recognized the ring. It was one of the gold monstrosities that Dracula favored wearing. The damn things did nothing but bring attention to those wickedly long claws, which was probably the point. Dramatic bastard. 

The hair, too, had to be Dracula’s. It was a long, silky hank of solid black strands. What was more telling about it was the scent of fire and blood that wafted off of it. Even this little bit of him smelled like power.

_What the fuck?_

He stared at the items in confusion. Then he read the note.

 

_Geralt of Rivia,_

_If you want to see your lover again and in one piece, you will come immediately to Novigrad. Go to the Golden Stallion Inn and await further instructions._

_The longer I am kept waiting, the more pain your lover will be in._

 

Vesemir reread the damn thing a second time. And then a third. It still didn’t make any sense.

Was this some kind of joke? 

He stabled his horse and wandered into the keep, puzzling the whole time. This looked like a ransom note. Dracula didn’t seem the type to leave such a thing himself, but Vesemir didn’t really know him all that well. That was a deliberate choice on Vesemir’s part, but now he was vaguely regretting it. A little extra knowledge might actually help him figure out what the hell was going on.

Just in case, he wandered through the keep looking for Alucard. He seemed like a serious sort of fellow. He’d probably give something close to a straight answer. 

But after checking Geralt’s room, the kitchen, the training areas, the baths, and the gardens, Vesemir still hadn’t found anyone.

An awful thought occurred to him. 

He went up to his room. Sure enough, there was a beautiful succubus in his bed, curled up sleeping. She woke as soon as he entered, curling into his furs in an alluring manner and showing off her ample curves. This one was a repeat; Vesemir had already shown her out of his room twice in the last week. Her lush hair was the color of ripe wheat, and her skin was pink and soft-looking. She had the lovely almond shaped eyes typical of succubi, and the horns on her head were the color of burnished gold. 

“Greetings, witcher,” she purred at him, and ran her hands down her full breasts, pausing to wrap her fingers around her nipples and pinch. 

Vesemir closed his eyes and tried very hard not to react. He took a breath.

“You’re going to kick me out again, aren’t you.” 

When he opened his eyes again, she was pouting at him. It was unfairly attractive. 

“Yes,” he replied easily. “But first I need you to find Alucard for me. Something...came up. And I need to talk to him.”

She lifted herself up onto one elbow and pursed her wet, rosy lips. “Hrm. Finding isn’t what I’m good at, but I can give it a shot.” Her gaze turned calculating. “What will you do for me?”

It was tempting to attribute the mercenary behavior to the fact that she was a demon, but the truth was that Vesemir had met many, many humans who would have asked for the same thing, him included.

He frowned in thought. Succubi liked sex, they fed on it like a human fed on meat and fruit. Aside from that, they also favored flowers, the prettier the better. 

“Find me Alucard and bring him to me as quickly as you can, and I’ll give you a fresh bouquet of Verbena. It has lovely purple blooms, and they would look stunning in your hair and along your horns.” 

The succubus arched a little in surprise. “Is that so? Well. I’ll admit I was hoping to be fed, but I do love flowers. Bring me a bouquet today and another the next time I see you, and you’ve a deal.”

“Done.” Vesemir couldn’t help but smile a bit and shake his head. He was just as bad as Geralt, giving flowers to all the pretty women he ran into. 

Before she could leave the room, he said, “What’s your name?”

“Iga,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. A tiny smile graced her face and she fluttered her eyes.

“I’m Vesemir.” At this point, he’d seen her enough that they might as well be on first name basis. 

“A pleasure. Now go find me my flowers.” With that, she walked out.

Not more than an hour later, Alucard found Vesemir waiting in the kitchen. Since the succubus wasn’t with him, Vesemir had to conclude he made the right choice in leaving the flowers by his bedside. 

The note, ring, and lock of hair were both spread across the table. Vesemir cradled a mug of hot tea in his hands. There was an empty cup and a kettle full of more, in case Alucard wanted to join him. From what Vesemir could tell, the vampire didn’t need, or even like, to eat or drink very much outside of wine at dinner. But unlike Dracula, Alucard still would take a taste or two. Maybe he was reminding himself of what it was like to be human.

Maybe he just liked the taste. 

Either way, Vesemir always tried to offer to share. Might as well be polite. 

Alucard’s eyes immediately went to the lock of hair and the ring. “What is this?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me. Does Dracula like to play pranks?”

The incredulous look he got after that question pretty much confirmed what Vesemir had originally suspected; Dracula wasn’t prone to flights of fancy. Probably just flights of irrepressible, uncontrollable rage. 

Rather than giving an explanation, Vesemir waved at the note. Honestly, he didn’t think that he actually had an explanation that made sense. Maybe Alucard could shed some light on things. 

Alucard sat down at the table, adjacent to where Vesemir sat, and carefully picked up the note. He was still wearing that ridiculous armor; the claws on his gauntlets always made Vesemir wonder how he held anything. Looking at him with the slip of paper, apparently he was simply very, very careful.

A tiny frown pulled at Alucard’s lips. “I don’t understand.”

“Me either. Tea?” Vesemir offered the empty mug and waved at the kettle. 

There was a short pause as Alucard thought the offer over--he always paused to think it over--and then he said, “Yes, please.”

Vesemir busied himself pouring the tea while Alucard reread the note. By the time he passed over the full cup, the frown on Alucard’s face had only deepened. 

“It’s a ransom note?” Alucard sounded utterly confused. 

“Apparently.”

Alucard grabbed ahold of the hank of hair, and sniffed it. “This is my Father’s hair. And that is one of his rings. These were with the note?”

“Yup.”

“...Is this a joke?” 

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Vesemir said dryly. He took another sip of his tea. “If this were anyone other than Dracula, I would say it’s authentic. The hair, the ring…Pretty standard stuff for a kidnapping.”

“But...why would my Fa---” A look of sheer horror overcame Alucard’s face, to the point where he actually dropped the note entirely. The hair he clutched tightly in his hand, still held close to his face. “Oh no. No. It can’t be.”

After a moment of waiting, Vesemir tapped his fingers on his mug. “You’re gonna have to fill me in on this, lad.” He knew that Alucard was many centuries older than he was, but Gods, sometimes the vampire just looked so damn young.

“There is no possible way for anyone in this realm to take my Father captive, and even if there _was_ , this whole mountainside would be leveled in the attempt.” Alucard was speaking slowly, as if still piecing together the information himself, and his brow was furrowed in confusion. 

“That was my assumption.” Vesemir sipped his tea, patiently waiting for Alucard to explain things. Still, the image of the whole mountainside being just evaporated was a bit disturbing. It was one thing to know Dracula was powerful, quite another to be presented with such a graphic idea of what would happen should he be engaged in a fight.

“So whoever left this, my Father went with them willingly. He let them cut off his hair. Take his ring. Why would he do that?”

“And how did they know to come here for him in the first place?” Vesemir frowned, suddenly realizing the implication of the note. “It’s not common knowledge that anyone other than witchers stay here. Hell, the location itself isn’t common knowledge, though it’s not as secret as it once was. Only our small group knows that you two stay here.”

“Someone talked,” Alucard said grimly. “But…” he paused, thinking things through. “But you all know how powerful my Father is. Geralt was quite clear, and Father isn’t shy about his nature. Whoever talked only mentioned that Geralt had lovers here, and not our nature.”

If that was true, then one of their friends was in trouble. Vesemir knew that they wouldn’t whisper a word of what happened here without Geralt’s say-so. That was private, and no one wanted to drag more enemies to Kaer Morhen. 

Quickly, Vesemir tried to remember where he last heard everyone was. Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel were all out hunting. Eskel was west of them in Redania, Lambert had headed south-west to Temeria, and Geralt was circling within a week’s ride of here. Who even knew where Yennefer was. Last Vesemir heard, Ciri and Triss were dealing with something involving the wars down along the Nilfgaardian border. 

Most of them would be impossible to track down quickly. 

Vesemir hummed to himself and tapped on the side of his mug. 

Eskel was in Redania…Novigrad was a free port city in the country of Redania. The royals had no official pull there; the city made their own laws and kept their own peace. The city paid a hefty fee to still enjoy the benefits of Redania’s rule, though, such as protection in their treaties. 

“Can you see where Geralt is? With your little birdies?” Vesemir asked.

“Good idea. They haven’t alerted me to any particular problem, but it couldn’t hurt to check.” Alucard straightened in his chair and let his eyes drift almost closed. 

The air grew thick around them, and Alucard’s normal faint frost and fur scent grew to fill up the room. Underneath it was the everpresent smell of blood. It made Vesemir wonder just what such magics actually cost him. There wasn’t even a hint of chill to the air, though, just the smell of power, and the faint hum of Vesemir’s witcher amulet vibrating on its chain around his neck. 

Only a few moments passed, and the aura of magic faded. Alucard shook his head, mystified. “Geralt is fine. He’s traveling, back here, I hope. But safe.”

“This letter is addressed to Geralt,” Vesemir said slowly, thinking out loud. “They came here looking for a hostage, someone to use against him. They weren’t expecting much of a fight. If it were me and I was captured, and someone started asking me about Geralt, I wouldn’t tell them about him…” A terrible understanding started to dawn on him, and from the look on Alucard’s face, he just caught it too. “I’d tell them about you and Dracula, and get the kidnappers killed and maybe alert Geralt to the fact that someone was out to get him.”

“Except my Father didn’t kill them. He went with them.” Alucard closed his eyes and bowed his head, so low it almost touched the table top.

“Somehow, I feel like if Dracula wanted to go investigate, he’d be a bit flashier about it,” Vesemir said dryly. 

“No, I don’t think he’s investigating.” The words actually sounded pained. “I think he’s _amused_.”

Vesemir opened his mouth, but then shut it again. Amused? “...I don’t follow.”

The look Alucard gave him was one of pure horror. “He went with them because he thought it was _funny_. And now he’ll expect Geralt to rescue him. Because he’s been kidnapped.”

Vesemir couldn’t get his mind around the pure horror of Alucard’s expression. “You can’t be serious.”

But Alucard didn’t even respond. He just laid his face down on the table and groaned, digging his claws into its wood surface. 

“We are talking about the man who is giving out succubi like candy to people he likes,” Alucard said with endless suffering in his voice.

“So that’s why Iga keeps showing up in my bed,” Vesemir muttered. 

Alucard pulled his head up off the table to give Vesemir a wry look. “You think your bed is the only one that suddenly got visitors?”

“I suspected, but didn’t want to assume,” he answered, just as wryly. 

“Others weren’t so picky.” 

For fuck’s sake, no wonder Eskel and Lambert had spent more time at the keep than they normally did. Vesemir pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

Alucard waved his hand, “Anyway, I think Father might treat your refusal to partake as a challenge.” He looked Vesemir seriously in the eye. “He might get more adventurous in his attempts.”

Vesemir tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling and briefly prayed for strength. “Adventurous?”

“Let’s put it like this,” Alucard said almost pityingly. “Succubi are not the only demons connected to pleasure and desire.”

Of course. Because nothing was ever simple. After another deep breath, Vesemir shoved that whole thought aside. He could figure out what to do with that later. Right at that moment, they had something more pressing to deal with.

“So. Dracula let himself get kidnapped. For the fun of it. And now Geralt needs to go rescue him.” He had this incredible urge to plant his face on the table right along with Alucard. Granted, when Dracula had invited himself into the keep, this wasn’t exactly the kind of trouble that Vesemir expected. But it was still trouble nonetheless. 

“And whoever sent those people here.”

Right. The person who talked.

“Judging by the meetup place, I suspect it may be Eskel,” Vesemir paused. “He was out hunting in Redania, though I don’t know if he made it out to Novigrad. He’s stubborn, that one. He wouldn’t have talked easily. I suspect he might be hurt.” He looked at the young vampire. “Would your father not help him if he saw that Eskel was in a bad shape?”

The expression that passed Alucard’s face was completely unreadable to Vesemir. It was the strangest mix of dismay, anger, pity, and wry humor, all in one strange twist of lips.

“Oh,” Alucard said slowly. “My Father would _help_.” He paused again. “Only his idea of help is…very unique. Not something you or I would think of, that’s for sure.”

“Would he let Eskel die?” Vesemir asked sharply.

Alucard shook his head immediately.

“No, no, he likes you witchers as you are. _Mostly_. But…that does not mean Eskel isn’t there right now _wishing_ he was dead.”

“Fuck,” Vesemir said with a resigned sigh.

“I’m afraid that’s not really the worst of it.” 

That caused Vesemir to sit up in alarm. “What is the worst of it?”

Now Alucard sighed, and looked very much like he wanted to get a drink. “The worst of it is that eventually my Father will get bored, or something will happen to spark my Father’s temper…” Alucard trailed off a pensive look on his face.

“And?” Vesemir prodded.

“How attached are you to Novigrad?” Alucard looked at the letter, “Or Redania in general?”

It was probably a good thing that Geralt wasn’t standing there, right then, because Vesemir might have punched him. 

_This is why you don’t fuck gods of chaos, you fucking idiot,_ Vesemir thought viciously at Geralt. 

He took a moment to calm himself. Sipped his tea. Stared at the wall. Tried not to think of the potential consequences of turning Geralt into a gelding. 

“How far away did you say Geralt was?” he finally asked. 

\--

The guards must have been trying to impress Dracula, because when they finally showed up for the day’s beating, they used their clubs more than their fists. About halfway through, Eskel started to gray out. Blood was in his eyes, pouring down his face and body. He’d barely had any time to meditate and heal that day, what with Dracula showing up. Too distracted. 

The blows blurred together into a haze of pain. Eskel didn’t even realize they were done until they dumped a bucket of water over his head. The worst part was how much Eskel wanted to plead for it to stop. He was done. Sending them off to find Dracula or Alucard was his last hope at getting out of this alive or even vaguely sane. But that had failed utterly. All Dracula did was watch, as if waiting for something to happen, or maybe waiting for Eskel to do something. 

Eskel wasn’t sure what stopped him from saying anything. His pride, or maybe the awareness of the dark red eyes watching him. Whatever it was, he clung to it, the last little measure of resistance that he could muster. There was no begging from him. Eskel would hold on to that for as long as he could. 

The water dripped down his face and he didn’t even have the strength to try and lick any of it up. He just hung there. Laughter and jeers floated over his head, but he paid them no mind. That was just routine. 

Eventually there was the sound of the door shutting, and the stone room fell into near darkness. The only light came in from a torch behind the door, filtering through the tiny barred window there. 

“Charming company,” Dracula murmured as he shook off his shackles as if they weren’t even there.

That actually made Eskel snort with weary amusement, which unfortunately set off a series of wet, wracking coughs. There was a fair bit of wheezing, too, and each gasp filled him with agony. Blood in his lungs, probably. 

“They’re…” he coughed again, and tasted metal. “Just. Fucking. Peachy.” The words were barely a whisper in the dark, but at least he got them out.

It took several long moments for Eskel to look up. When he finally managed it, he found he didn't like the thoughtful look on Dracula’s face, and he liked the the prickle of power against his skin even less.

“You are very grumpy,” Dracula announced, dragging his hand over his carefully trimmed facial hair.

Eskel just growled at him, and made a rude gesture with his hand. Then he started coughing again. It seemed to take forever to get his breathing back under control from the gurgling that persisted in his lungs.

“Hmm,” Dracula murmured, his eyes lighting up slowly with power.

Eskel didn’t like the sound of that, but he couldn’t find the breath to ask what it meant.

“Why are you not healing?” Dracula sounded, well, not really _impatient_ , but somehow tenser than his usual drawl. “Geralt would be better by now.”

The comparison stung. Eskel had had to listen to teachers telling him how much better Geralt was for years, he didn’t want to hear it when he was dizzy from pain and weak from hunger. 

“I have been here,” he paused to try and lick his dry lips. “For weeks. You think this this the first time they worked me over? They do this every day.” He winced, and even that movement was painful. “And not all of us are enhanced the same.” That was better than admitting that Geralt was better than Eskel. He _wasn’t_. More enhanced, yes, and a bit more skilled with his blades. But Eskel was much better at signs, and he was no slouch on the Path either. He’d killed just as many dangerous things, and had been smart enough to stay out of the political bullshit that Geralt routinely got himself involved with.

There was something thick on the back of this tongue and his stupid body spasmed, trying to dislodge it. The attempted movement sent a wave of pain through his body and his lungs seized up hard enough he could feel himself starting to fade into unconsciousness. He forced his breathing to slow, forced himself to control his body the way he was taught.

“I might have miscalculated.” Dracula sounded surprised, at what, Eskel couldn’t guess. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Dracula was watching him with darkened eyes. His attention was a palpable weight. Eskel wasn’t sure he wanted to be the focus of that kind of regard. It caused little shivers to travel down his back.

“Whatever you are thinking about, I don’t want to know.” Eskel would have backed away from Dracula if he could. 

He only had the beatings, the hunger, and the exhaustion as an excuse for not figuring out what was about to happen. He should have seen it coming. 

“I can’t give you as much as I give Geralt.” Dracula reached for Eskel’s face. “You are not quite as open to it as him.” He lifted up Eskel’s chin, and the power thickened around them. 

The hand around his jaw hurt too, just like every other part of his body did. Eskel stared muzzily at Dracula, who of course looked untouched and fresh as a daisy. Fuck him. Fuck him _so hard_.

“If you fight, it will only hurt more. Just yield. Not like you have any other choice,” Dracula was saying as he lowered his face to Eskel’s.

“I don’t wa---”

“I’m not asking you for permission,” Dracula interrupted. “Now be a good witcher and swallow.”

When Dracula’s lips touched his, Eskel’s mind blanked out again because what the everloving fuck did Dracula think he was doing?

Then the fire came.

It was like having lava poured down his throat, scorchingly hot and painful, filling his mouth and sliding down his throat in thick rivulets. He swallowed out of reflex, out of self preservation, irrationally afraid he would drown. He tried to jerk back, away, but there was another hand on the back of his head, keeping him in place. The fingers on his jaw were pressing into the hinges, forcing it open as pure power poured down his throat.

It hurt, but it also felt perversely good. The pain and ecstasy mixed together, making his skin shiver and tingle and causing heat to rise up in his body until Eskel thought he was dying from it. Everything burned, his skin, his soul, his body. He was hard, he was in pain, he was maybe even coming. He felt thirst, hunger, desire so overpowering he couldn’t think of anything other than being touched, touching, fucking. Something. _Anything_.

He whined, high and desperate, in the back of his throat when Dracula eventually let him up. Spots floated in front of his eyes and he tried to blink them away. He was panting like he’d just finished a marathon run or a fuck. The room swam and spun around him. His body was so oversensitive that the sensation of his own dirty clothes stuck to his body was unbearable.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Dracula had the gall to pat him on his cheek. “Geralt does it better, though.”

If Eskel could have put a single coherent sentence together, it probably would have been swearing. All he could do, though, was pant and shiver through the ecstatic pain. 

Several long, labored breaths later, he found his voice again. 

“The fuck.” It was half question, half statement, and mostly just very confused. Holy shit, his body felt like it was on fire, if fire somehow felt both terrible and fantastic. 

“Not sure we should. Haven’t asked Geralt what he thinks of me fucking his witchers yet,” Dracula said in that rough voice of his. Just the sound of it reawakened shivers in Eskel’s body and made his heart pound madly again.

He couldn’t look at Dracula. Not even a little. He did not like the man, didn’t want to bed him, and frankly was a little terrified of him too. But right then, he wanted to fuck _something_ so badly that even Dracula had appeal. What was worse was that his body felt so damn attuned to whatever power Dracula emanated, that just standing near the man was some kind of torture. It shivered along his senses, teasing and tormenting in equal measure. 

“No.” Eskel closed his eyes and tried to settle himself. He failed. Utterly. “No. I’m not fucking you.” He expected his voice to sound rough, either from the power that scorched through him or the many, many days of pain and torture. But aside from being breathy and weak, his voice sounded almost better? Not nearly as rough as he remembered. “Holy Gods, how does Geralt manage this?”

“With pleasure and fairly regularly,” Dracula informed him with some pride in his voice. “He’s really good at taking me.”

And now that image was burning through Eskel’s brain. He was suddenly aware of just how fucking hard his cock was as well as just how much he didn’t want it to be. “I very much don’t want to know that.”

Dracula chuckled, reaching to trail one fingertip down Eskel’s neck. A ragged, soft moan ripped out of Eskel’s throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch.

“Not quite true, is it?”

He shuddered hard, and kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t look at Dracula. Could not. 

“True or not, still no.” Fuck, those words cost him. His body screamed for touch, but already he could feel the burning dying down a bit. All he had to do was ride this out, and he would be fine. 

Eventually.

“If you say so,” Dracula conceded, still with that edge of laughter in his voice.

Witchers were masters of their bodies, both through training and enhancement. Eskel put those skills to good effect. He leaned his head back against the stone behind him and just breathed. Everything but his heartbeat and his breath faded away as he concentrated on slowing both down. When his heart was nothing but a slow drum in his ears, pounding out its regular time, he let himself feel the world around him again. His skin still burned with good-bad fire, but at least he felt a little more in control of himself.  
He still _wanted_ , he just wasn’t insane with it.

For the first time in well over two weeks, maybe three, Eskel didn’t feel anything broken inside of him. He could breathe without the sharp pain of blood in his lungs, and his body thrummed with energy, both magical and physical.

He was still fucking filthy, though. His armor stuck to him, and he could actually smell how rank he was. Which was just… _great_. Eskel honestly wanted to give Dracula a few bonus points for touching him at all, but he was still kind of pissed off.

After all, the bastard had just sat there and watched him get beaten within an inch of his life. 

He risked a look at Dracula. 

The want surged up again, and the way he perceived Dracula changed. Suddenly the pale skin looked smooth and inviting, the hair soft and luscious. His head filled with images of how it could feel to touch it, how it would feel to be touched in turn. He caught himself staring at Dracula’s hands and imagining them on his skin.

He shook his head.

What the hell was going on?

His skin prickled again, as if blood was raising up to the surface under his skin. Like his body was a magnetic needle and Dracula was True North.

“Hmm,” Dracula said and Eskel’s heart skipped a beat in terror at the thoughtful sound.

“No,” Eskel said preemptively.

“Interesting.” Dracula was coming closer again.

“Oh Gods,” Eskel said, as his eyes caught Dracula’s face. The want, the hunger, all but choked him as it rose up again.

“Calm down,” Dracula said without a shred of sympathy. “I just healed you, I’m not going to eat you.”

Eskel just widened his eyes, raised an eyebrow, and stared, because really? He knew what they got up to in bed. In far, far more detail than he ever wanted to know.

Then there was a hand against his cheek and Eskel’s eyes drifted closed as he whimpered a little, turning his face into the touch like a cat.

“I think this is because of the energy I pushed into you. Alucard has the unique ability to subvert my power into himself, make it his. If he wasn’t permanently half starved to death he probably wouldn’t even get so high after feeding on me.”

Eskel could barely hear the words, too busy straining his neck to get more contact. The skin of his cheek tingled and burned like the hardest of blushes as every single nerve ending opened up under that touch. 

“Geralt can take in more than you, but even he would suffer this side effect I think. I can all but feel my own power sizzling just under your skin.” There was now another touch, a warm hand sliding along his neck to curl up possessively against the nape of his neck, sending starbursts of pleasure through his body. “But I don’t think I ever gave him power outside of sex, so it hasn’t come up yet.”

“There’s,” Eskel rasped out, tongue feeling thick in his mouth, “such a thing as too much information.” He felt as if the impact of his words was lost in how incessantly he was rubbing his face against Dracula’s hand, but there was just no stopping it.

“You are missing the point.” Dracula stepped in even closer. He withdrew his hand, making Eskel whine pitifully at the loss. Then he was close enough that Eskel could feel that silky hair, smelling of old fire and power, brush his face. Blindly he pushed his face closer to that scent, to the warmth he could feel like sunlight on his skin. “The fact that I am usually taking Geralt at the time or feeding from him soon after means he and I have a lot physical contact. That, in turn, means whatever energy he ended up not absorbing can come back to me easily.”

Eskel’s face was tucked into Dracula’s neck. He could feel the hot skin and steady pulse against his scarred cheek and the soft hair against his other one. The hand on his neck was still there, possessive and heavy, feeling so good Eskel was ready to cry with it.

“No sex,” Eskel managed to mumble out, straining against his chains to get his hands on that hot body.

He could feel the rumble of Dracula’s laughter through the chest pressed so close to him.

“All right,” Dracula agreed deceptively easily. “Though I feel you might regret this decision in the nearest future.” The bastard was still laughing at him. But he was also close enough Eskel could bury his nose in the crook of Dracula’s shoulder, so he figured he would wait with snark until after.

“We will---” Eskel moaned loudly when he felt Dracula’s other hand work its way under the back of his armored top and spreading against his sweaty skin there. “Oh gods.” He shuddered like a mad creature, his sight whiting out with something that felt remarkably close to an orgasm without it being one. “---never speak of this again.”

He was proud of himself for managing those words, as they were the last thing he remembered before passing out.

 _Again_.

\---

A distant howl shattered the quiet of the forest, and Geralt shot up from his seat near the campfire. 

_Alucard._

He’d recognize that call anywhere. But why was Alucard out here? Geralt would be back to Kaer Morhen in just a few days.

His horse pawed nervously at the dirt, her ears flicking back and forth. The woods had gone utterly silent around them.

Another howl, and this time far, far closer than the first. Alucard was moving ungodly fast, and wanted Geralt to know he was coming. 

He debated about mounting; should the horse decide to bolt, he’d have an easier time controlling her while mounted. Roach was a steady beast--she would have to be, to be useful for a witcher--and she was familiar with Alucard’s wolf form. Geralt was reasonably confident she wouldn’t panic when Alucard came crashing through the brush. Even if Roach did decide to rush off, Geralt was fairly sure he could just wrestle the damn beast’s head down to the ground, forcing her to be still. He grabbed hold of the cheekstrap of the bridle, just in case, and waited, murmuring softly to her.

While they stood there, worry gnawed at Geralt. Had something happened? Was one of the others hurt? He quickly listed off in his head the latest news for every member of his little family-of-choice. Maybe someone showed up to the keep injured. That still didn’t explain why Alucard had come to fetch him.

Sooner than he thought possible, Alucard slipped into the small clearing. In a single bound he was by Geralt’s side, glimmering with white-blue light the whole way, ghosting over the campfire in his spectral wolf form. He changed into his physical form again as he landed and ended the movement with his nose buried in Geralt’s neck. Roach started, but settled quickly.

Alucard stepped back before Geralt really got a good cuddle going, and shimmered blue again. By the time Geralt blinked the light spots away Alucard was back in his human form. 

“What’s the rush?” Geralt asked, grumpy at being denied his hug.

A complicated look flashed across Alucard’s face. It settled on a grimace. “My Father has been kidnapped.”

Geralt blinked.

“I think I heard you wrong,” he laughed. “I thought you said kidnapped.”

Without another word, Alucard handed him an envelope. There was a sour twist to his mouth, and a faint sense of exasperation that Geralt found alarming.

He read the note. Then fingered the lock of hair and ring that went with it.

“It smells like him,” Geralt said, sniffing the items. But even that wasn’t enough to convince him that what he was reading was actually what happened. “But it can’t be him.”

Alucard just looked at him, and then rubbed the bridge of his nose with one knuckle. 

Any moment now, Geralt expected this whole situation to start making sense. 

Any moment. 

He opened his mouth, then paused, thinking. “Can Dracula get kidnapped? Is that a thing that is possible?”

“No,” Alucard said, sounding apprehensive.

“Then what’s this?” Geralt waved the note about.

“My Father can not be kidnapped, but he definitely can get _bored_ ,” Alucard said, stressing the last word unnecessarily.

Oh no.

Suddenly things made horrible sense. 

Someone came to the keep looking for a hostage and Dracula just let them take him. Probably laughed himself sick the moment he had a second alone, too.

“...Should we care?” Geralt couldn’t really see a downside here. Eventually Dracula would get bored and murder everyone involved. As far as Geralt was concerned, that sounded like a win.

Alucard’s lips twisted. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how attached you are to Novigrad.” Alucard spread his arms helplessly. “Because he’s going to be in a seriously foul mood if you don’t barge in, chest heaving, to save him.”

That was a very solid point. A slow smile spread across his face as he considered how pleased and playful Dracula might be post-rescue. They could have quite a lot of fun with that.

Then something else occurred to him.

“How did they know how to get to Kaer Morhen? Did they even go there expecting to find hostages, or was Dracula just a target of opportunity?”

“About that. Vesemir said that Eskel was in Redania. And since the meeting place is in Novigrad, we assume Eskel was taken first.”

That wasn’t good news. Geralt bared his teeth a little at the note. He knew Eskel could handle himself, but witchers were hardly invincible. Smoldering anger glowed in his gut. Witchers were not prime kidnapping victims. While they had some expensive gear on them and some coin, they weren't usually worth the effort. No real fortune to be gained from a witcher. This stank of someone’s personal vendetta.

“Novigrad? I’ve had business there before.” He actually had spent a fair amount of time there, over the years. But for all that, he couldn’t help but think back to Mad Kiyan. Geralt had no love for the Cat School witchers, but Kiyan’s fate had been a grisly one. “The only time I’ve ever heard of a witcher being kidnapped, it was to experiment on him. It didn’t end well for the witcher.” He shook his head. “But if the same people, or person, has Eskel, why try to lure me in?”

“Ciri mentioned that you have many enemies,” Alucard said quietly. There was a stillness about him, an unnatural quiet that tipped off Geralt to how upset he was. Eskel and Alucard were close, or as close as Alucard allowed himself to be with anyone other than Geralt and Dracula.

“Me? You think it’s about me?”

“I think that it might not matter either way. We still need to go.”

That was true. Geralt sighed and brought the hair to his nose again, taking in Dracula’s scent.

“So,” Alucard asked, watching Geralt with inscrutable eyes. “Have you decided what to wear yet?”

“Wait, what now?” Geralt looked up to Alucard in confusion. “My armor. Like I usually wear. You know, so I don’t get stabbed to death?”

“I mean, this whole thing is clearly a fantasy. And you are playing a starring role in it. You have to look the part.”

The truly terrifying part was that Alucard was dead serious. 

Geralt frowned. “I’ve been told I look rather dashing in armor.”

Alucard’s eyebrows went up.

“It’s not the _armor_ that my Father likes about you.”

“I can’t go pantless,” Geralt said flatly.

“You can bend over a lot,” Alucard answered, equally flatly.

Geralt sighed.

\---

Eskel burned, a horrible aching fire that filled his gut and made his skin crawl. But there were warm, comforting arms around him, and his head was cradled against someone’s neck. That embrace felt like salvation, and he strained to return it.

Chains rattled.

He was still chained to a wall, and the hot pulse against his lips smelled of blood and fire. It lit a strange wanting in him, and he literally ached to get closer, to rub himself into that smell. Since he couldn’t really move, he licked the skin instead.

Dracula. 

He was wrapped up in Dracula’s arms. 

_Of fucking course._

A pained groan escaped him, half born of frustration, and half from desperate need. He panted hard into that warm, wet skin under his mouth, and struggled to control himself.

“Why…” he choked out, then shook his head a bit. Dracula had explained it already. The extra energy he gave Eskel was trying to get back to its rightful owner. His body was interpreting it as unquenchable desire. “Why isn’t the…” he hesitated to use the word cuddling. For some reason it just wouldn’t pass his lips, not in the situation they were in, where Eskel was doing his best to climb Dracula like a tree. “Touching,” he spat out instead, “working?”

“It is,” Dracula opposed him with a rumble that awakened the tremors. “Considering how narrow the channel for transfer is, it’s going fast. Just a week or two and you will be done.”

That sparked another groan out of Eskel, and this time even more frustration mixed into the sound. Dracula held him tightly, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Not even close. Unconsciously he rubbed his face against Dracula’s neck. Fuck, he kind of wanted to _cry_. “I hate my life.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Dracula huffed.

“If those guards come back and find me like this…” Eskel didn’t want to think about it. He’d take the beatings over rape, but it seemed unlikely he’d get a choice in the matter. He shuddered. 

“Did you not listen to me?” Dracula rumbled again, his hand again on the back of Eskel’s neck, fingers tightening to make sure he listened. “It’s not just sex.”

It took a moment to puzzle through that. Eskel’s brain felt like taffy, and most of his thoughts were centered on how good that hand felt on his neck. Finally he figured out what Dracula was talking about. “The energy exchange. Sex and touch---” he had to pause as a wanton shudder raced through him. His body screamed _yes more_ , and for the first time since he’d been tossed in the dungeon he was grateful he was chained. “Blood,” he gasped out.

“Good,” Dracula praised, the hand on Eskels neck tightening briefly again, sending a riot of little shocks down his back.

Feeding. Dracula was offering to drink from him. After listening to both Geralt and Alucard overshare about the experience, Eskel knew mostly what to expect. Some pain, but a lot of pleasure. Prior to this power exchange, he had just assumed they both had some strange proclivities. Now he was starting to rethink that.

He didn’t particularly want Dracula to feed on him, but he also couldn’t take much more of the mind numbing need to fuck Dracula into a wall. Eskel had been bitten before. Many times, in fact. 

This time would just be a little more pleasant.

Fuck, he hoped he wouldn’t end up rutting into Dracula’s leg. This was already embarrassing enough. The cuddling he actually didn’t mind so much, though he’d never admit that out loud. It was the overwhelming lust he was extremely unhappy with. As well as the target. Dracula was endlessly fucking frustrating and no little bit terrifying. 

At least Dracula was offering. Not just offering, but was waiting for Eskel to agree. And he did come when he saw Eskel’s sword and smelled blood. After all, he could have just killed the men sent after him and gone about his day. And on the very bright side of things, all of Eskel’s injuries were healed. Not just healed, but healed as if they were never there. There was no pull of new scars, no new aches, nothing to indicate he used to be hurt at all.

While he was thinking this all over, Eskel suddenly realized he’d gone back to delicately licking Dracula’s neck, salty and hot on his tongue. The hands on him just urged him closer, sending shivers through him. He was shaking with need.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, either. Just could not. Dracula’s skin on his made him feel whole inside, and set every nerve firing with bliss. 

Eskel tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck to Dracula. “Do it. Drink.”

To his credit, Dracula didn’t wait, didn’t make Eskel ask twice. The hand on Eskel’s neck threaded gently through his hair. Then slowly, carefully, he tightened his fingers, getting a solid fistful of hair close to the scalp. That firm grip sent Eskel’s eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, and his whole body went boneless.

Dracula eased Eskel’s head to the side and bit.

It was unlike anything Eskel had ever felt before. There was such a small amount of pain as those sharp fangs pierced his skin, but such overwhelming pleasure. He felt the slow plunge of those teeth more keenly than anything else, as if his whole world narrowed down to that one spot. Blazing heat roared inside of him, and every muscle clenched down hard. Stars sparked behind his eyelids and the heady scent of Dracula’s power wrapped around him like a blanket. 

At the first slow draw of blood, a wicked, low moan ripped out of his throat. The sucking seemed to draw from everywhere at once, raking his body with sensation, and leaving him gasping and writhing in his chains. He struggled to reach out, to cling to the source of that unimaginable pleasure. He needed more, needed the contact, had to get that burning skin all over his body.

Dracula pressed him into the wall, holding him up off the ground effortlessly. Then he swallowed again, starting another round of slow, sucking pleasure. The hand in Eskel’s hair stayed tight, and the other held up Eskel’s leg. Somewhere along the line, he’d wrapped both legs around Dracula’s waist, drawing him in close.

Over and over, Dracula drew pleasure and blood out of him. Eskel undulated into each sip, desperate for friction, but the heavy press of Dracula’s body kept him mostly still.

He had no idea how long it lasted, but eventually the fangs in his neck receded. They were replaced by soft licking across the wound. The movement was gentle and pleasant. Soothing even.

“Oh Gods,” Eskel moaned, and Dracula rumbled quietly in answer. If it sounded a bit smug, well, Eskel didn’t feel up to disputing it. Holy fuck, no wonder Geralt spent so much time doing this.

Eskel didn’t even bother trying to get out of Dracula’s hold. He didn’t want to. His body ached with unreleased pleasure, and his cock was so hard it hurt. But the abnormal craving, the mindless affinity for Dracula’s touch was gone. 

Now there was only regular old horny-as-hell lust. He wanted to fuck someone into a wall, but at least he wasn’t pining for Dracula. Still an incredibly uncomfortable sensation, but not nearly as disturbing. 

Regardless of that, Dracula’s arms were warm and safe, and Eskel found he didn’t want to move at all. When the hand in his hair relaxed and began softly petting him, all Eskel did was rest his head on Dracula’s shoulder and breath in the man’s unique scent. Dracula was so self assured, so confident that it irritated Eskel, but at the same time it made this whole situation easier to bear. Dracula treated the touch as something obvious, natural; he actually made no big deal out of the fact Eskel had been clinging to him like a limpet for what had to be hours by now. Eskel was aware that the only awkwardness came from him, not the vampire.

No matter how much he didn’t want to fuck Dracula, Eskel knew he was going to have some complicated reactions to that scent in the future. 

They stayed that way for a while, while Eskel’s body finally began to relax. It felt so good to be held. Eskel secretly loved it when Alucard wanted to cuddle, even though that often came with far more details about Alucard’s sex life than he ever wanted to know. But there was something about the soft, undemanding touch that made him melt a little inside. 

It was ironic that the cuddling was again with Dracula. The last few weeks had been a nightmare of pain and suffering. To be free of hurt and sheltered for a while was a desperate relief.

“If you weren’t so damn terrifying and infuriating, I’d consider doing that again,” Eskel eventually grumbled, face still mashed into Dracula’s shoulder.

Dracula just laughed at him, and kept up the heavenly stroking of Eskel’s hair. 

“Maybe you would like Alucard better. I’ve been trying to get him to feed more regularly for ages. He starves himself. It’s concerning.”

“Mmmm try Geralt first,” Eskel said quietly, words slurring a little with deep relaxation. “If Alucard’s got a thing for not eating humans, Geralt is pretty damn far away from that now. Get Geralt in on it too. Alucard won’t even consider it without Geralt’s enthusiastic support. If that works out, then come talk to me.”

The answering hum he got back was both thoughtful and a touch surprised.

“You might not be purely human as witchers,” Dracula said in a low rumble Eskel could feel with his whole body. “But you are the best humanity has to offer anyway.”

Eskel didn’t answer, feeling oddly shaken by the praise. He got complimented by women, sure. He got praised by some of the humans he saved. He was never found worthy of respect by someone who didn’t have any use for him at all. The peasants he saved wanted a protector, the women wanted a fun night or an exciting adventure. The lords wanted something out of him, if only the bragging rights for housing a witcher.

Dracula needed nothing from him; there was nothing Eskel could do he couldn’t do easier. Nothing Eskel could give that the vampire wanted or couldn't get from a multitude of different sources. 

It made his words all the sweeter, dragging over old wounds and making Eskel feel both shaken and uniquely pleased. He decided to keep his mouth shut, too afraid of what might come out if he decided to speak.

Slowly but surely, Eskel’s cock softened and his heart and breath slowed. Dracula had to have felt how hard Eskel had been with how closely they were pressed together, but the vampire didn’t comment. It made it easy to stay snuggled up to him, to keep reality pushed aside for a while longer.

Eventually, though, the problems of the day came flowing back. Not the least of which was Dracula’s apparent desire to stay kidnapped. Since Eskel could breathe now without coughing up blood, he was feeling a little less surly about the whole thing.

A little.

“We’re really not leaving here, are we.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Not until Geralt comes to save us,” came Dracula’s even reply. He sounded incredibly pleased about the whole affair.

As nice as it was that Dracula was getting some joy out of life, Eskel still would rather that happen in maybe another way.

A loud gurgling rumbled from Eskel’s stomach, accompanied by a painful cramp. It had been so long since Eskel had eaten that he’d completely forgotten that he was hungry. Something in the energy transfer must have reminded his body that it needed fuel, and now his stomach was complaining bitterly.

“Witchers are always hungry, it seems,” Dracula said with amusement.

Eskel’s mouth twisted into a snarl, and words poured out of him like acid. “Silly me, I must have forgotten to eat in between beatings.”

Again there was that feeling of banked rage all around him. It was easier to sense now. Eskel had to wonder if it was because of the power exchange or if he just knew what to look for now. Either way, pressure built up in the room, ghosting along Eskel’s senses. Before it could get truly unsettling, it was gone. The sheer amount of control Dracula had to have to sustain that kind of rage without berserking was astonishing.

“How long?” Dracula asked. If he was going for casual, it was a near miss. Eskel could still hear the undercurrents of anger in those words.

Thinking about his time there just made Eskel feel tired, though. “Two or three weeks, for the eating and beating both. I kinda lost track,” he answered wearily. “Didn't give me water in the beginning, but that didn’t last too long. Probably a good thing Steingard was willing to wait to start his process. That guy…” Eskel shivered. “He’s got the means to break us. Rip out our minds and turn us into puppets. I’m not glad that he’s got such a hard on to fuck with Geralt, but I am thrilled that he’s easily distracted. Beatings are survivable. What Steingard can do…” 

He shook his head. And if he buried his face into Dracula’s neck for a moment, well, Eskel had had a hard week. No one else had to know.

“I can put you to sleep, if you want.” Dracula offered. “When the guards come I mean.”

“Eh?”

Dracula spread his hand against the back of Eskel’s head.

“I’m not much of a spellcaster,” Dracula admitted. “But now that some of my energy was used to heal you, I could put you into a sleep deep enough the guards will deem you unconscious.”

Eskel wasn’t sure how to react to this. The knowledge that he could be manipulated like that both terrifying and perversely calming. He was tough, he could take a lot, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go through the beatings again. Or whatever else Steingard had planned for him.

As he mulled the idea around in his head, he hummed quietly, soaking in the warmth of Dracula’s body wrapped around him. The fabric of Dracula’s fine coat collar was soft against his cheek, and Eskel had to resist the urge to rub into it. Heat soaked into his bones from the hands on his head and leg. It was strangely intimate, and as odd as it felt to be held by Dracula, it felt good too. Deceptively safe. 

That was the crux of the issue. How much did he trust Dracula?

“What if they start in on me while I’m asleep?” He shook his head, frustrated with himself. The only choice here was if he would be awake to feel what they did to him. Would it be worth the pain to be aware of what was happening?

“I could probably keep you asleep throughout,” Dracula said softly. “And there’s a chance they wouldn’t bother with you if you were unresponsive. Types like them are all about reaction. They might not bother otherwise.”

“Might is not good enough,” Eskel said, finally making up his mind. The idea of being helpless and unaware when guards worked him over made his skin crawl. “I don’t want to just be a helpless punching bag.” Then he glared at Dracula. “Or we could just get the hell out of this place.”

“Geralt hasn’t came to save us yet,” Dracula said stubbornly.

Eskel tried to hit his head on the wall, but Dracula’s hand on the back of it prevented it. He closed his eyes and sighed very softly, sagging forward again. Might as well rest while he could.

“At least if I’m awake I can steer Steingard in a less awful direction,” Eskel said quietly. Dracula was still holding him, and, fuck, but it felt better than it should. “That guy is a dozen bad villain stereotypes wrapped up in one. What was he even doing looking at your neck like that?”

“I won’t let anything really terrible happen,” Dracula sighed, disappointedly. “Geralt would get all moody on me.”

That made Eskel snort in amusement. Somehow he wasn’t surprised at all that Dracula’s priority was Geralt’s happiness. Still, it made him feel a bit better to know that Dracula would step in before Eskel was driven mad or tortured to death. 

He had no illusions that a little beating would be interrupted, though. Still shitty, but at least he could recover from that.

Eskel paused a moment, then said, “Thank you. I’m still kind of pissed that we aren’t leaving, but thank you for...showing up. Healing me. In the most goddamn awkward way possible.” He glared a little at Dracula. The whole effect was likely ruined by how his head was pillowed on Dracula’s shoulder. “But still. I appreciate it.”

“You have to tell Geralt I was nice,” Dracula said with some urgency. “And Alucard,” he added after a beat. 

That made Eskel raise his eyebrows in surprise, but he nodded. “Alright. I bet they’ll both be thrilled.” He sort of dreaded hearing about the results of that happiness, after the fact. Eskel closed his eyes and tried not to think about the guards coming back. “I can’t believe you actually put your mouth on me. I’m so filthy, I don’t even want to touch me.”

“Eh.” Dracula pulled his hand away from Eskel’s head and waved it about dismissively. “I used to drain twelfth century humans.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “They believed water was the Devil’s creation and only sinners washed. A pious man would never wash.” He wrinkled his nose. “And demons. Have you ever heard of a demon using soap?”

Eskel’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. “Not so bad then, I guess.” The movement shifted his arms, causing the chains to clink softly against the stone wall. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to unchain me?”

“No.” Dracula shook his head. “When Geralt comes for us, we should look like proper hostages.”

Right. 

Gods, only Dracula would turn this into some kind of fantasy play acting thing. He ran his tongue over his teeth and thought the problem through. Dracula seemed willing to help, as long as it didn’t interfere with his fun. Which was annoying as fuck, but Eskel could work with that.

“What if it was just for a little while? Like when the guards leave for the night?” Any time not stretched against the wall would be a relief.

“I can rip those chains off, yes.” Dracula nodded. “But then how do I put you back into them?”

That was a good question. 

“What about lock picks? You have any demon, er, servants who can pick locks? These types aren’t hard to open, I could do it. I would just need both hands.”

The expression on Dracula’s face was priceless. As if Eskel asked something absolutely ridiculous.

“Lockpicks for demons,” he said with the strangest expression on his face. “Why would they need a thing like that?”

Eskel exhaled, trying very hard to remain calm. You’d think the King of Hell would know some sneaky demons, too, but apparently not.

“Ok, let's try it a different way. Can you get me someone with clever hands and a lockpick? Or...” He craned his head to look at Dracula’s claws. “Actually. Bring your hand closer. I think your claws might work.” Now that was a phrase he never thought he would say.

Dracula raised his hand and Eskel watched as the claw elongated slowly.

“Yeah. Worth a try. Put the end of the claw in the keyhole, and feel around. You should feel a long, thin bar that runs along the length of the cuff. It’ll have ridges on it.”

Dracula looked at him for a moment then pulled back enough to get at the right cuff. After a moment of looking at it, he slid the claw of his index finger into the keyhole.

“Now follow that ridged bar towards the seal of the cuff. You should be able to feel the latch that hooks against the bar. That latch is spring loaded. All you need to do is press it back, then keep it depressed as you open the cuff.”

“Like this?” Dracula asked as the cuff sprang open without any warning.

Eskel’s arm dropped and white hot agony shot through him. He’d been suspended by his arms for too long, and for more of that time than he wanted to admit, his shoulders and wrists had borne his full weight. Moving his arm from the stress position it had been forced into for weeks felt like he was sheering his limb off right at the shoulder.

Dracula, obviously emboldened by his success was already working on the second cuff. Before Eskel had the time to warn him that it was too fast, his other arm was dropping down.

He would have shouted, but his breath was already stolen away by the pain.

He blacked out before he hit the floor.

_Again._

\---


	2. Chapter 2

Eskel woke up to the smell of food and a hot, distant ache in his shoulders. Touch. There were fingers on his shoulders, strong and thin, massaging the blood back into the tissues and easing the tension of long overused muscles and ligaments.

“Dracula?” he muttered softly. This passing out thing was getting to be unsettling. He hoped he was remembering things right.

A feminine giggle was the only response he got. When he opened his eyes he was met with two lovely succubi leaning over him. Each of his arms was resting in a soft lap and the women’s hands were massaging his joints expertly. It ached, but it felt damned good too. 

Oh, and he was shirtless now.

“You are starting to worry me with all that swooning you do,” Dracula said from somewhere to his left. When Eskel craned his neck, he saw that the vampire was sitting sprawled in a heavy, dark wooden chair that that was suddenly there in the cell with them. He had a now-familiar golden goblet in his hand.

“It’s been a rough week,” Eskel said dryly, trying to wake up a bit. “Besides, maybe you should take notes. These are classic kidnapping reactions, though I’ll admit not usually for me. Generally, witchers just get all the pain and then either rescue themselves or die.” He shook his head. “Maybe you should swoon a bit when Geralt gets here. Make him carry you out.”

“Hmmm.” Dracula looked really interested in what he was saying and Eskel wasn’t sure it was a good idea after all to continue in this vein. He might end up witnessing things he never wanted to witness.

“Whatever you think of, make sure to do it out of my sightline,” he warned. 

One of the pretty succubi dug her fingers into the shoulder harder and he cried out, arching his back. Something went loose, and a painful tension suddenly released.

He sank down, dizzy with relief and all but high on endorphins.

“Girls,” Dracula chided gently. “Don’t make him pass out.”

“Yeah,” Eskel said with a gasp. “I think I’m all filled up on that quota.”

“If you are in pain,” the one on the left purred, leaning lower. Her curly black hair fell forward over her mostly naked shoulders, barely covered by the thin dress and tickling Eskel’s skin. Her hand was resting on his chest, hot and small, inching slowly lower. “We can help ease it.”

Eskel stared into her black as night eyes for a second, then at her luscious red lips. He turned his eyes to Dracula.

The vampire made a vague gesture with the hand holding the goblet, that Eskel translated roughly to: “your choice.”

It was tempting. Very, very tempting. But much like Eskel had no desire to hear the details of Dracula’s sex life, he was uninterested in Dracula watching his. And somehow he knew Dracula would watch. _With interest_.

So it was with regret that he shook his head at the lovely succubus. “Another time, maybe.”

“We’ll be waiting,” the one on his right said, her straight hair falling like the gentlest of silks around her shoulders. There was a cute pout on her lips and her fingers were brushing past his nipple oh so accidentally.

He closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. Now was not the time.

Before he could think further on all the things he really shouldn’t be doing with succubi in front of Dracula, his stomach rumbled loudly again. He opened his eyes and looked towards the source of the wonderful smells.

“Did you really bring a table full of food here?” Eskel asked, not willing to believe what he was seeing. At least not totally. Because what he saw was a feast of cold meats and bread set out on the table and an empty chair pulled out invitingly.

“I tried to get the baths in too,” Dracula said with an irritated little huff. “But no matter how I rearranged the furniture, there was just no fitting it here.” He sounded unbelievably irritated by the fact space was a limited resource.

“I appreciate the effort.” Eskel shook his head, bewildered. How had his life gotten so strange?

“There’s a space to relieve yourself behind that screen.” Dracula pointed towards a black privacy screen with golden peacocks painted onto it, tucked in a corner. “If you want to use it.”

That brought a bit of a blush to Eskel’s face, but he nodded. He couldn’t help but think maybe it was a good thing that he hadn’t eaten in weeks, at least as far as cleanliness went.

He stood slowly, but found that he felt better than expected. It was odd to move and breathe without suffering for it. Eskel hastened to take care of himself.

When he got out from behind the screen, still flummoxed by the strange white device instead of a chamberpot, he saw Dracula leaning back in his chair and the two succubi kneeling in front of him. Their barely-there dresses clung to every curve and their long legs were bare. They leaned forward and worked their hands as they…gave Dracula a foot massage?

“Comfy?” Eskel couldn't help but snap. He _hated_ this cell, even if it was now all but unrecognizable, stuffed to bursting with furniture and with so many people in it.

“Quite,” Dracula allowed. “This whole kidnapping thing is a little tedious but an interesting experience all in all.”

Eskel rolled his eyes so hard that he nearly saw the back of his head. Rather than saying something he shouldn’t, he sat at the table and started on decimating the food there. 

Once he tasted the first bite, all thoughts other than those of food fled his mind. Hunger made each mouthful taste divine, but he forced himself to eat slowly, carefully, lest that food come right back up. Over the course of the next half hour he managed to consume a truly impressive amount of bread and meat.

Each slice of bread was feather light. The crust was just the right combination of crunchy and chewy, and the insides were so soft it practically melted in his mouth. The meats were many and varied. There were sweet, honeyed meats and salty, savory meats. Meats that had been baked coated in herbs and meats that had been cured or smoked. Some were sliced thick and juicy, and others were paper thin. 

When he was finally done, Eskel slouched back into his chair with a happy sigh. He looked over to Dracula. The succubi were gone, and those burning red eyes were watching him with ferocious intensity. There was a weight to that gaze, and again Eskel could feel some faint stirring of power around him. The air was filled with the scent of fresh burning wood and blood.

As terrifying as those things were, Eskel found himself relaxing as he breathed it in. He also had the strangest feeling that Dracula was pleased.

“Thank you for the meal.” Might as well be polite, after all. Eskel found that his temper was a hell of a lot sweeter when he wasn’t starving and beaten. Exhaustion still dragged at him, though. As good as the rest of him felt, warm, full, and pain free, his limbs felt heavy as lead.

A slow smirk curled across Dracula’s face and his gaze drifted down to Eskel’s neck. Embarrassment burned through Eskel, and he glanced away. Dracula certainly had had a meal as well, and it was just like the asshole to bring it up. 

The smug look made a tiny thread of pleasure trail up Eskel’s spine as he remembered the overwhelming pleasure of that feeding. That only made the embarrassment worse, and Eskel quickly tried to ignore every aspect of what he was feeling.

“How long until dawn?” he asked instead, quickly changing the subject. 

“Only a couple of hours. You should rest while you can.”

Eskel glanced around the room. The chair he was seated at was comfortable enough, and he’d certainly slept in worse spots. The need to meditate itched at him. His body had been drastically imbalanced by the power flowing in and out of him, and Eskel craved the calm that came with quietly settling his mind and body together.

There were certainly enough plush rugs on the floor now to give him a good place to kneel and focus. He was inexplicably drawn to the place right at Dracula’s knee. After everything that had happened, and even though Dracula still made the hair on the back of his neck rise up, that spot seemed safest.

The image of the two succubi kneeling there came to mind, along with their soft voices chanting, _My Prince_. 

He closed his eyes and shuddered. No. Fuck no, even. He would not turn into another pet. He refused.

Eskel straightened in his chair, settling his spine into a posture he could hold for hours, and slowed his heart. The world drifted away. All that existed was the slow thrum of his own heartbeat.

A slow beat.

A long breath.

A slow beat.

Back and forth it went, until a gentle hand on his shoulder roused him.

It only took a moment for sense to flood back to him. When he looked around, though, he almost suspected he was imagining things again, because the dingy cellar dungeon was empty once more. Only the chair Eskel sat in remained of all the fine furnishings. In their stead had returned the few dark trappings of Steingard’s twisted malice. The chains on the wall, and a table with restraints in the corner had come into view again. 

“It’s time,” Dracula said almost gleefully. 

Eskel’s face twisted. He did not want to go back into chains. The whole idea made his stomach churn, and bitter fury slithered through him.

“You realize how awful this is going to be for me, right?” The words tasted like poison and sounded like gravel, low and rough. He couldn’t even look at Dracula; all of his focus was on the shackles hanging from the wall. 

“Hmm…”

It sounded like the asshole was considering if he cared or not. Eskel shot a glare at him, and, yup, Dracula was over there rubbing a thumb over his goatee. Eskel just raised an eyebrow at him.

Now that Eskel was healed and free from the cuffs, he knew he could escape. One good Aard and the door would be history. A few Igni and the whole place would be nothing but a pile of ashes in short order. And while the lack of weapons would slow him down, it wouldn’t stop him. At least not against the guards. Steingard, he would have to just run away from; no use engaging a mage without some dimeritium on hand. The question was whether or not Dracula would let him go. 

Dracula must have been thinking along the same lines because he said, “If the kidnapping is to be believable, you need to play along. If you escape, they will wonder why and how. Steingard is quite obtuse for a spellcaster. I’ve hidden most of my power from him, but if he knew what to look for, the game would be up.” 

That was a trip and a half. Eskel could feel Dracula’s power prickling over his skin whenever Dracula so much as got interested in something. It begged the question, how did Dracula hide that from Steingard? Or, though Eskel was loath to even think it, how had Eskel changed that he could sense the power so easily?

It was an odd situation. Eskel furrowed his brow, and thought for a moment.

“Hire me,” he said, suddenly. After all, witchers were taught to go with the flow whenever possible. No use fighting the current if they could use it instead.

“Pardon?”

“I said, hire me.” Eskel grinned at him, sharp and predatory. Finally he was back on familiar ground. “It’s a little out of my preference for work, but I’m gonna need new gear. New armor. And my sword, too. My steel sword has magic runes inscribed on it; that’s expensive, but replaceable. Witcher swords are rare, though. I need to get mine back or go without until I find another magic blade that comes even close to mine. Plus I didn’t even get paid for the damn wyverns that Steingard hired me to kill.” That hurt. Witchers worked for money. A contract was the law for them. They had no other loyalty but that of a contract sides. Having the contract broken like that felt more like a betrayal than the kidnapping.

That actually made Dracula laugh. “Witchers.” He shook his head. “Alright. I will pay your fee. Gold for your armor and gear, a bonus for your effort, plus one witcher sword or something comparable.”

“And you can’t let anything truly terrible happen. No permanent or long term damage.” Just saying it made Eskel’s back tense and his neck prickle with anxiety. Dracula had already promised, but he had to be sure. _He had to_.

“Agreed,” Dracula said easily, and then smirked. “I can make sure you stay healed.” 

A shudder ripped through Eskel at the thought of going through that whole process again. Drinking down that burning hot power and having it drained out of him in return was the most terrible pleasure he’d ever felt. He didn’t want to think about how it would affect him, long term.

But being healed was better than staying wounded.

Maybe.

And if a tiny, guilty part of him perked up at the idea of Dracula having to touch and pet him while the energy bled back to him? There wasn’t anybody but Eskel to know.

“Agreed.” Fuck, that was difficult to say. There was a finality to the word, and something tingled against Eskel’s senses, like a door slamming off in the distance. 

That’s when it struck him. He’d just made a deal with the Devil. No matter what they agreed to, Eskel couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to end poorly for him.

“Time to play your part.” Dracula’s smile was both unsettling and excited. No wonder. The guy was roleplaying a fantasy here. 

…And Eskel was helping.

Eskel took a deep breath. He knew this was coming. Had bargained himself into it, even. But his stomach still clenched with fear at the thought of going back into chains. 

He ignored it.

With no little disgust, he shoved his filthy top back on. Then, steady as could be, he headed over to his spot on the wall. “You sure we can’t just leave?” 

“Very sure,” came the pleased reply. 

A spike of pure, angry frustration arched through him, but he pushed it aside. Nothing he could do about it anyways. He tried to remind himself that at least he’d be getting paid for his suffering. Cold comfort.

It was hard, oh so hard, to stand with his back against the wall and raise his arms up. To feel those heavy cuffs wrap around his wrists again. The memory of weeks of pain and torture flooded through him the moment he was locked into place. He bowed his head under it, and a fine trembling set into his bones.

Just as Dracula’s hands started to drift away, Eskel growled out, “Wait.” Fuck, it hurt to say it, to be so weak. But he couldn’t stop shaking, and Dracula said…

Well. Dracula had not said he would help, but he’d clearly been trying. Eskel went out on a limb and hoped it would still hold true.

“Stay. Until you hear them coming. Stay, please.” The words were low and harsh, and Eskel couldn’t look up. Didn’t want to see the look on Dracula’s face. 

Eskel knew he could be strong when they came for him. He’d never give Steingard the satisfaction of seeing him trembling in fear. But Dracula had seen worse, and hadn’t flinched. Nor did he seem to think less of Eskel for his weaknesses thus far.

“Alright,” came the soft reply. And then Dracula’s hand was on his neck again, hot and comforting. The other was at his side, soothing away the tremors.

Breath hitched in Eskel’s chest, and he leaned in towards those hands. He kept his head bowed low, and waited for the next round of beating.

\--

“Why have we stopped here?” Alucard’s voice was low, low enough to keep the conversation between him and Geralt. 

The city of Ard Carraigh teemed around them despite the late hours. The moment Alucard had finished explaining their odd situation, Geralt had packed up camp. They had traveled hard to get to the nearest major city. It had taken them until after sunset the next day, but they made it.

Ard Carraigh was capital of Kaedwen, a country known for its bitterly cold winters, its vast, dark forests, and its love of sorcery. Geralt had actually just come from there. Kaer Morhen was in the northern part of Kaedwen, so Ard Carraigh was a relatively close place to look for work. 

They walked, with Alucard wrapped up in Geralt’s cloak to hide his unusual looks. The hood was enough to hide his white hair, making him look like any other witcher. And if Geralt felt a host of butterflies in his stomach at seeing Alucard wearing his clothes, well there was nobody to know. He felt a shiver of possessive pride every time he caught a whiff of their mixed scents, marking Alucard as his in the most primal of ways.

“Because,” Geralt muttered back, “we need to get to Novigrad, and quickly. The fastest way to do that will be to hire a mage. I know one here who is usually available and doesn’t mind selling portal trips.”

They walked closely together, as Geralt led them through the trade district to the mage’s workshop. Hans Gerhard wasn’t the only spellcaster in the district, not even close, but the fact that Geralt knew him was worth making the special trip. Geralt _hated_ portals, and he hated using an unfamiliar mage’s portals even more. It was far, far better to go with someone he knew was reliable than to gamble on an unknown. Especially since they were in a hurry.

He just hoped everything would go quickly and smoothly. Hans was...a bit of a flirt. Geralt cast a careful eye on his companion. Not even a wisp of white hair escaped the deep hood of the cloak, showing nothing of his true nature. Geralt wondered how Alucard would take meeting one of his old flames. He’d dealt well with Triss and Yennefer, but they were different. They were family. Hans though…Hans was just really fun in the sack.

“So you know…” Geralt paused, debating. He gritted his teeth. Better Alucard knew up front. Finding out as a surprise wouldn’t go well for anyone. “Hans and I---” How even to word this?

Alucard slowed, turning his head to Geralt, his golden eyes reflecting light from a nearby lamp.

“Yes?” Alucard prompted, slowing even more.

Fuck it. Might as well be blunt.

“We fucked a couple times, a few years back.” He shrugged. “It was fun, but brief. That’s not why we’re headed there though. Hans is competent, friendly, and likely available for hire. That’s all.”

Alucard stopped.

“How many times is a couple?”

“Three or four, I think,” Geralt said evenly. He wasn’t ashamed, nor would he hide his past affairs. But he did owe it to Alucard to be honest. “It served my needs for the time, and Hans was pleasant enough company. I just didn’t want you to walk in there blind.”

“Hmm,” was Alucard's only response. His eyes still reflected the light oddly, making it impossible to read his expression.

“I have no interest in renewing that affair, but Hans is…” Geralt glanced to the side and winced a little. “Tactile. Please don’t kill him.”

“Hmm,” Alucard said again, sounding remarkably like Dracula.

 _That_ boded well.

Geralt rubbed his eyes and sighed. “The bright side is he won’t take our money and then portal us into a bog. I’m hoping to be done quickly, though we may need to wait until the end of his shop hours before he’ll take us.”

They stood for a moment longer as Alucard stared at him. Geralt just held his gaze, waiting. He might have considered offering to go to a different mage, but for the fact that he really didn’t want to get screwed by going to someone unknown. Their errand was too urgent to wait for him to properly look around, anyway.

Besides, if he started avoiding everyone he’d fucked in the past, he’d find himself exiled out of every tavern he’d ever spent more than five minutes in. Probably half the shops, too.

“As long as the money is the only thing he takes,” Alucard said finally, his voice low and stunningly cold. 

Geralt had to blink at the obvious warning in Alucard’s voice. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Alucard be anything but gentle and composed. He didn’t even think his lover _could_ act like that.

Then he realized that this was the first time he and Alucard were together in public, and about to meet a previous lover. Both Triss and Yennefer kept their distance from Geralt, the memories too big to just swallow them and act as if nothing ever happened between them. But they were the exception rather than the rule. Geralt had many lovers before and after, people willing to share their bodies with him for the brief moments he was near. 

Hans was one such person. A flirty, friendly man who enjoyed his sex just as much as he enjoyed the status that being a mage gave him. Was that what affected Alucard so much? The thought that somebody else might touch Geralt so easily? Did he feel truly threatened?

Geralt tilted his head a bit and let his gaze soften. The urge to reach out was powerful, but right then he wasn’t sure how the gesture would be taken. “You know you and Dracula own my soul. And I was glad to give it.” 

“If you think I would not guard what’s mine, that’s a mistake,” Alucard said in a voice less cold but still remarkably deep.

Fuck, but that was sexy. Geralt had to resist reaching out again, but this time for a totally different reason. He let Alucard see how much he was affected though, letting his heated gaze drag down to Alucard’s plush lips. 

He leaned in, getting close enough to almost share breath. “After this, once we get Dracula, I want you to show me that I’m yours. I want your mouth on me, your hands in my hair. Your teeth on my skin, if you want that. Let me mark you up, so I know you’re mine, too.”

Alucard didn't back away, his eyes were still unreadable and still fixed on Geralt.

“You think you can take it?” Alucard challenged. “All the things I could do to you? That I want to do? Mark you up for weeks, wreck you so badly that you would limp instead of walk the next morning. Scratch you, bite you, drive you out of your mind until all you can do is beg.” Alucard’s voice dropped down to a rough whisper. “That’s what I want to do to you.”

A shudder raced through him, and his whole body tensed for a moment, thinking about it. Heat burned at his cheeks. He let his head drop a bit, and wrapped a hand around one of the belts that crisscrossed Alucard’s waist. “Fuck. Yes. _Yes_ ,” he growled. “Bite me, fuck me, show me I’m yours.”

It was extremely difficult not to drag Alucard off right then to make it happen. He closed his eyes and tried to remember that they had someplace to be. 

Finally, he tugged at Alucard's belt. “We have work to do. People to save. Sex after.” The words barely came out at all, they were so breathy and low. 

“As long as it’s sex with the right person,” Alucard muttered under his breath, only Geralt’s augmented senses picking it up.

Geralt couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at how jealous Alucard was. Such an unexpected development. The laugh didn't quite mask the roughness of his voice.

“Come on. Sooner started, sooner done. Play time after.” Geralt tugged at his belt again, and this time Alucard allowed himself to be moved with it.

They made good time to Hans’ shop. Sure enough, the window was lit up, though the colored glass didn’t show a hint of what to expect.

Inside wasn’t much different from what Geralt remembered. Herbs, potions, and carved runes lay displayed on the few shelves along one wall. The other side of the small front space held a long countertop, behind which was Hans. A couple of doors along the back wall led to stairs and a couple of extra rooms.

Hans was a good looking man. All the spell casters were. Geralt honestly could only remember ever meeting one that was ugly or disfigured in any way. It seemed that even if they were born with defects, they always found a way to fix the issue. 

He was a tall man, almost as tall as Geralt, with rich brown hair curling around his ears and shoulders. His eyes were sky blue, so bright Geralt always suspected there had to be a spell involved, and cheekbones so sharp they looked like they could cut glass. He was an avid rider and fencer; odd hobbies for a spell caster. It showed in his wide shoulders and trim waist. Those slim hips were wrapped in a nice black doublet with shiny silver buttons, and white cuffs showed from under the black sleeves. His pants were so tight, so fitted to his body, the shape of his cock snuggled against his left leg was clearly visible under the soft, honey brown cloth. He had black thigh high boots with silver buckles running the outside edge of them; they only served to highlight how damn long his legs were. Geralt knew their lovely shape from intimate experience, just as he knew how they felt wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll be with you in a mo--- Geralt!” Hans blinked recognition and then blinked again when Geralt’s changed appearance registered. “Oh my.” He came closer, blue eyes flicking over Geralt’s face as if it was a new and interesting spell. “Oh my, Geralt, what did you do?”

Geralt just shrugged and smirked. “Things happened.”

“I can see that,” Hans said, his hands raising with palms up, which Geralt already knew would mean a diagnostic spell. While he himself didn't care, he didn’t want the spell catching Alucard by accident.

“Better you don’t know,” he said quietly, grabbing hold of Hans’ hands for a moment. “Safer that way.” For everyone involved, honestly. 

Hans stared at him a moment, and then shook his head. “The stuff you get involved in, Geralt, I swear.”

Then he turned the hands in Geralt’s grip, tangled their fingers together and kissed Geralt.

Firmly, but gently, Geralt pressed him back, all the while feeling Alucard’s eyes boring into the side of his face. 

“I’m not here for pleasure, I’m afraid. We need a portal to Novigrad, and urgently.” Geralt tried to wear his best Defender Of The People expression. Sometimes it was useful to be known for helping people out.

“How urgently?” Hans looked at him curiously, though thankfully he didn’t seem offended by the brush off. His gaze flickered over to Alucard, looking him up and down. He hadn’t commented about Alucard being still wrapped up in Geralt’s heavy cloak, nothing but the tips of his boots visible and the end of his long scabbard.

“Three days ago, preferably, but now would be good too.”

Eyes still glued to Alucard, Hans hummed to himself. “Is that so…” He smirked knowingly. “It’ll cost you, but I can get you there tonight. I have a late appointment, so you’ll have to hang around for a bit, but after that I’ll be free.”

“Can you cancel the appointment?” Alucard asked unexpectedly, his voice low and rich. Geralt shifted, hiding how affected he was by the sudden drop in registers.

“Oh, honey,” Hans said, smile curling even wider. “As much as I love seeing Geralt’s fine, muscled self, I cannot afford to piss off my regulars. Not even for the best all night fuck in three kingdoms.” He trailed his eyes down Geralt’s body like he was looking at a particularly juicy cut of meat. “That last time…” he tsked. “I had to skip the royal hunting party the next day. No way I could have sat in a saddle for even five minutes.”

Geralt did his best not to look at Alucard. Much better to keep his attention on Hans and pretend the side of his face wasn’t tingling. He didn't dare catch the look on his lover’s face now.

“All night?” Alucard asked, deceptively calmly.

Oh, Geralt did not like where this was going. Or he did. He couldn’t make up his mind.

“Mmmhmmm.” Hans sighed happily. “Like an animal, this one. He can go and go and never tire. There’s something to be said for witcher stamina after all.”

This wasn’t anything that Geralt hadn’t heard before. However, it was a hell of a lot more awkward having it told to Alucard.

“We’re a persistent bunch,” Geralt said a bit sheepishly. 

“Persistent. Yes. A delightful way to put it. Is your witcher friend here just as persistent? Does that stamina double when there are more than one of you?” Hans trailed a hand down Alucard’s shoulder, only barely touching the fabric at all. “And are you sure you need to leave tonight?”

There was a vibration in the air, a tremble that Geralt could feel coming in waves around him. It took him a moment to realize it was Alucard. He was growling subvocally. Geralt watched the hand Hans had on Alucard’s arm and realized Hans was half a breath away from being mauled gruesomely. He schooled his face, trying not to project his shock at the fierceness of Alucard’s reaction.

He reached his own hand to the side, catching hold of Alucard’s forearm under the cloak and _squeezed._

“We’re flattered by your interest, but our business is extremely urgent. My companion is also, ah, committed.”

“Really? A witcher in a serious relationship?” Hans blurted out unexpectedly. “Will wonders never cease!” He pulled his hand away from Alucard. “Whoever your partner is, they must be both enthusiastic as well as resilient. Witchers have such great stamina. You’re partner is very lucky.”

“My partner is very possessive and very dangerous,” Alucard answered unexpectedly, his tone pointed.

“Don’t tell me!” Hans laughed. “A sorceress? One powerful enough to make even a witcher behave?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

Geralt had a sudden image of Dracula in Alucard’s place right now. Gods, nobody would be able to wash the blood out of the walls once his other lover got possessive. Which, to be honest, did not require much effort.

Something must have been a little off in Geralt’s brain, because the idea of Dracula being possessive of him was more attractive than it should have been. He thought back to the last time Dracula had fucked him. He’d trailed bites all down Geralt’s neck and chest, and plowed into him so long that he’d been dripping come for hours afterwards.

“Oh my Gods, I know that face,” Hans said quietly, one hand covering his mouth. His face was torn between amusement and shock. He looked back and forth between Geralt and Alucard. “Now I really want to know what you’ve been up to.”

This was such a bad topic to be on, and Geralt was desperate to move things along. “When did you say your last appointment would be done?”

Now Hans looked really amused. “I’ll be finished a half hour before midnight. Until then, I’ve got a spare work room you can wait in, if you like.”

Geralt knew exactly what that spare room was for and it had nothing to do with magic. He’d caught the two way mirror the first time he’d ever been in Hans’ shop. But right now he was tired from riding for so long and a bit of rest before dealing a city as crowded as Novigrad would be nice break. Besides, Alucard was not much more than a line of prickling tension at his side. Getting a moment to soothe his growling wolf would be appreciated. They could just cover the mirror with something.

“Done,” Geralt said gratefully, and guided Alucard towards one of the doors in the back of the shop. Hans followed them, and unlocked the door with a waved hand. 

Before Geralt could slip in, Hans caught his arm and murmured, “Portal is free if I can watch.” 

The scent of arousal curled around them. Geralt had caught traces of it earlier, but he ignored it. That faint trace of musk was so much a part of Hans’ scent when he was near Geralt that it had blended in to his regular scent. Now, though, it spiked sharply.

“Hans,” Geralt said urgently. “You won’t come close to this room if you _want to live_ another day, alright?”

At the same time, from the corner of his eye, Geralt caught movement from Alucard. His lover was pushing the flaps of his cloak apart, the armored gauntlets with fingertips as sharp as knives coming into view for the first time that night. 

Fuck. 

_Fuck_. 

Geralt let go of Hans and turned to Alucard, opening his arms in a placating gesture.

“No, no, no need to---” but it was too late. Alucard was already pushing his hood off his head. His white hair spilled onto his shoulders, and his strange, gold irises rested in a backdrop of black, rather than white as a human’s eyes might. The sheer weight of his gaze pinned Hans into place.

“We will pay for your services,” Alucard said, a tangle of magic in his voice. Geralt could swear the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. “But if you infringe on our privacy---” Gods, he was beautiful. Beautiful, otherworldly, and terrifying as he stared Hans down coldly, “---I will make sure you will suffer my ire until the end of days.” His voice echoed oddly on the last word, like a hundred people speaking at once, making Hans pale suddenly.

Before things could escalate further, Geralt shoved Alucard into the room and slammed the door behind them. No sooner had the lock clicked closed, then Geralt was being thrown bodily across the room. He landed on the small bed there with a yelp, bouncing twice and staring at Alucard incredulously.

Alucard wasn’t even pretending to be human. He was still like a statue, probably not even breathing as he stared at Geralt. Then he burst into a swarm of small, angrily screeching bats. They swarmed together, and headed straight for Geralt.

“Fuck!” Geralt instinctively raised his arms to protect his face when the swarm solidified into Alucard right on top of him. One hand, thankfully gauntletless, tangled into his hair and pulled back sharply, while the other caught his forearm and slammed it hard against the bed.

Alucard was still growling, a deep subvocal thrum that Geralt could feel in his bones. He pulled Geralt’s head painfully back and dove down, biting hard at his skin. 

Geralt cursed and yelped as he felt the skin break. Bite by bite Alucard left a marching trail of bites on Geralt’s neck, only stopping when he reached the collar of Geralt’s armor. The feel of Alucard’s mouth, his _fangs,_ in Geralt’s skin, marking him, digging into him, set heat burning up inside of him. He pulled against the hands holding him down, but he couldn’t get even a hair's breadth of give.

“Fuck,” Geralt repeated, shakily.

“No,” Alucard hissed, starting to bite a second row of angry marks into Geralt’s neck on his way up.

Geralt tried to get a good grip on Alucard with his one free hand, but it kept sliding off the armored coat. He hissed and twisted under Alucard, arching his hips and doing his best to rub up against the body above him, so blindingly hard he wanted to cry with it.

His whole body thrummed with heat. Alucard had never bitten him like this, would barely even nibble on him due to caution. Now he was breaking the skin and not even apologizing, marking Geralt. Making sure everybody knew a vampire all but ate him. While Dracula loved to feed on Geralt, Alucard refused to, just as he refused to feed from all humans. To feel Alucard’s careful control shatter was melting Geralt’s mind. 

“What---” Geralt tried to ask, squirming under Alucard and not even bothering to pretend he wanted to get away.

“Sometimes.” Alucard pulled his head up. His pupils were so blown they nearly covered the gold entirely, making his eyes almost nothing but a solid pool of black. “I just want to put a collar on you.”

“Do you?” Geralt said, curious, each word coming out as half moan. 

“Collar you, put a tag on you, make sure everybody knows who you belong to.” Alucard was panting the words across Geralt’s lips, his breath hot and moist, driving Geralt insane with the need to kiss them. But when he pushed up for a kiss, Alucard yanked his hair harder, not letting him move.

That kind of play wasn’t something Geralt had ever indulged in, though he was familiar with the concept. He’d never found someone he was willing to kneel to like that. 

But he would for Alucard, if his lover wanted it of him. He’d at least try it.

“Do you want it?” Geralt asked roughly. “Me on my knees? A collar on my neck?”

Alucard shuddered above him, the hand in his hair tightening even more.

“Yes. No.” He shook his head, hair falling over them both, locking them in a fragrant cage of white silk. “I don’t know. You drive me insane sometimes.”

Pleasure and pride coiled through him. Geralt loved driving Alucard and Dracula both to distraction. It was one of his favorite pastimes. The smell of Alucard above him, the weight of his body straddling Geralt, the strength of those arms restraining him so easily; it was all so good, making Geralt hard, making him so needy he was dizzy with it.

Whatever possessiveness had overcome Alucard, it was something Geralt would have to keep in mind for later.

“You have my blood on your lips,” Geralt whispered, staring at the red smudges. He swallowed, throat clicking dryly. “Let me lick it off?” he offered. “So that you don’t have to?”

The hand in his hair released, the sudden lack of pressure making Geralt’s skin tingle. He groaned and tried to reach for Alucard’s hair with his free hand but his lover intercepted it, pressing it to the bed beside the other captive one.

“You wanted to lick,” Alucard said, just barely an inch away from his lips. “Then lick.”

So he did. He strained his neck, gasping at the uncomfortable position and the effort as he strove to lick every little trace of his blood from Alucard's pale, soft lips. There wasn’t much, just a hit of copper on his tongue as he licked, begging wordlessly for entrance. He knew it wouldn't be granted until all traces of blood were removed, but it felt like he had to get it. He licked in fast, tiny kitten licks and in slow, wet swipes across the soft skin, probing at the seam. 

As he licked, Alucard slid one armored thigh in between Geralt’s legs, pressing the very top flat piece of plate right against his groin. The metal was hard and unforgiving, but it was also far too slick. Geralt tried to rut up against it, get some kind of friction on his aching cock. But between Geralt’s heavy leather trousers and Alucard’s platemail cuisses, all he managed to do was frustrate himself more.

By the time Alucard opened up to him, Geralt was already whining softly in the back of his throat. The moment those pale lips opened to let his tongue in felt like sheer bliss, the moist heat slick and welcoming against his tongue.

He couldn’t stop himself from tugging at the grip Alucard had on his arms, twisting, forcing Alucard to hold on tighter, hard enough Geralt knew there were probably bruises on his forearms. It only served to stroke the fire in his belly higher. His cock grew harder, and strained against the tightly fitted leather, almost giving him the friction he wanted but never enough.

Alucard made a low noise, a deep growl that hummed against Geralt’s tongue, and shifted his arms. In seconds he had Geralt’s hands caught in just one of his, with fingers clenched tightly around Geralt’s wrists. His other hand slid between their bodies; his fingers plucked at the laces there, yanking hard enough Geralt was afraid the things would just give under that insistent pressure.

Then there was a cool, strong hand wrapping around his cock, pulling it out of the confines of his pants. Geralt moaned loudly, back arching as his eyes all but crossed at how good it felt. Alucard’s grip was firm and tight, and his hand immediately went into motion. He stroked up and down Geralt’s achingly hard cock, driving him mad with the rough drag on that sensitive skin. It was dry and rough and perfect, and he arched into it as best he could, but Alucard’s body held him down. The scent of frost, fur, and blood mingled with the scent of arousal; Geralt breathed it in, drowning in it. 

A waterfall of beautiful silver hair shielded Geralt from the rest of the room. All he could see, all he could smell, was Alucard above and around him. He licked into that warm mouth, straining to drink in as much as he could. The rough strokes on his cock came faster and faster, forcing little whimpers out around their kissing. He couldn’t last. Not with how Alucard simply held him down and _took_ him. 

He tried to cry out a warning that he was close, so close, but the sound was swallowed up, lost as Alucard’s tongue pressed into him. The punishing rub back and forth across his cock was too much. It rode that edge of good-bad, pain-pleasure, so dry and harsh that the hand on him nearly burned. At the same time it was so sensitive and good that Geralt was squirming with it, his eyes prickling with tears from the sensation.

Geralt arched up as he came, groaning into Alucard’s mouth, but the hand on him didn’t let up. It simply shifted, working the head of his cock, rubbing all over that most sensitive part of him and catching every last drop of his release. The pleasure was so intense Geralt nearly screamed, but no matter how he struggled, Alucard held him down. The sheer amount of strength needed to keep him immobile was incredible. Geralt knew how strong Alucard was, but seldom was that strength used on him. It only added to the experience, driving home that Geralt was there to please Alucard. 

He squirmed under that touch, moaned and whined into Alucard’s mouth, the aftershocks wracking his body over and over as Alucard milked his orgasm out of him. He was left shattered and dizzy, panting like a mad creature into the kiss that never stopped, never broke for a second. His jaw ached, his neck ached, but he felt better than he did after most of his wildest adventures in a brothel. His body tingled and his heart pounded; every limb felt boneless and weak.

Alucard pulled his head up just enough for Geralt to see the need, the hunger, in his face. Those normally kind eyes were still pitch black with desire, and Geralt could feel his power still thrumming in the air. Without ever breaking their gaze, Alucard brought up his hand from Geralt’s cock, and slowly licked it clean. His pretty, pink tongue wrapped around each finger, sucking, savoring the taste of Geralt’s come. 

Just watching that little display was torture, his soft cock twitching uselessly where is rested against his belly. Fuck, he wished they had more time. All he wanted to do was stay there and keep going, keep touching and tasting. He wanted to see just how far Alucard was willing to go in this mood.

“That was---” Geralt’s lips were all dried out from all the panting he had done, so he licked them, swallowed and tried again. “Fantastic.”

“You are mine,” Alucard said again, calmer but no less insistent. “Remember that I am my Father’s son after all.”

Those words resonated down Geralt’s spine and he shivered. Just thinking about Dracula made a wicked idea cross his mind. 

“Shall I kneel for you like we did for him?” Geralt asked, low and breathy. “Open up your laces with my teeth and suck you, swallow you down? Let you own my mouth, move me however you want?” Just the thought of it made him buzz with anticipation. They didn’t have time for anything else, but Geralt was damn sure he could get Alucard off in the time they did have left. This mood that Alucard was in was so unusual, so odd, that Geralt really wanted to get the most out of it. Alucard would probably be horrifically embarrassed later, shy even, but for right now Geralt wanted to give his lover what he was obviously craving. “Please. Please let me.”

Alucard said nothing, but he rolled off him with an abrupt move that left Geralt cold. He watched Alucard's back, blinking in surprise, as he sat up at the edge of the bed, his boots hitting the carpeted floor.

“Get on your knees.” Alucard’s voice was rough, wrecked as if it was him that spent the last ten minutes moaning himself horse. In the next moment Geralt realized Alucard was already unfastening his own pants, his hands working the laces impatiently.

He half crawled, half slid to the floor, falling hard onto his knees in his haste. When Alucard managed to get his pants open Geralt could smell him, his musk, the traces of precome. Gods, he must have been so close already. Geralt salivated, mouth filling with the remembered taste of Alucard’s skin, the feel of his cock, and he whined under his breath.

No sooner had he wrapped his lips around Alucard’s cock, than Geralt felt a hand tight in his hair. The other wrapped around his throat. Those fingers dug into the bite marks that were left littered down his neck, sending tiny shocks of pain through him. He tried to move forward, couldn’t help but want to lick and swallow all around that thick length, but the hands on him stopped him cold. 

“No. You move where I want you to.” Alucard’s voice was a rough growl, and there was a desperate edge to it. 

Geralt sucked around the tip he managed to get into his mouth, sucking off the taste of precome and tasting the fragile skin. He wanted more, he wanted to lick all over, get it all into his mouth and get Alucard to come. Wanted to touch, to nuzzle. The hand on his throat was relentless, the one on his hair keeping him away and Geralt just wanted to _beg_. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t move forward to take more, couldn’t back off to speak. All he could do was run his hands over the hard thighs parted for him, rub the thick leather and hope Alucard would finally take pity on him.

He looked up to Alucard’s face, hoping to give his lover a wonderful view. The look he got in return made him flush and shiver. Alucard’s mouth was parted, and his tongue ran back and forth over the peaks of his sharp fangs. Power nearly radiated off of him, dark and cold and beautiful; it was a tangible thing, and it made that lovely white hair drift gently around his handsome face. His black eyes burned into Geralt, so hungry and needy that it forced a little whine of desire out of Geralt’s stuffed mouth. 

Then the hand in his hair moved, shoving him slowly onto that cock, pushing deeper and deeper until Geralt was swallowing around it whether he liked it or not. He loved how ruthless it was, how slow and deliberate. He would have gotten hard if he could, his still softening cock twitching hopefully between his legs. He could feel the head pushing in, filling him and going further, past the entrance of his throat and deeper. Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to take it, but Alucard didn’t let up. He just forced Geralt farther down until his nose was buried in Alucard’s skin and all he could taste and smell was cock. 

Alucard’s hand on his throat was squeezing, not hard, but hard enough Geralt thought Alucard could feel the shape of his cock in Geralt’s throat. A shudder wracked him, his hands squeezing hard on Alucard’s thighs. This was too good, too full for him to stand doing nothing. When Alucard pulled his head back, just as slowly and relentlessly as before, Geralt whined. All he could feel was that thick head dragging through his throat, over his tongue and slipping from his lips. He pushed his tongue out, trying to keep contact as long as possible, chasing that bitter taste of precome.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Alucard’s voice was nothing but a rasp.

“I could say the same.” It was true, too. Alucard looked dangerous and beautiful. Otherworldly, even. So often he downplayed his vampiric nature, but not now. Now he looked every inch a Prince of Hell.

“Don’t speak,” Alucard growled. “Just take it.” 

_Fuck_.

Whatever instinct Geralt had brought out in Alucard that evening was driving them both mad. Alucard was a master at suppressing his inhuman needs and drives, but even he occasionally succumbed to them. Geralt had to wonder if the possessiveness was truly a natural personality trait, or if it was derived from Dracula’s power. Or maybe their vampiric nature. He loved it, though, loved that it was rare for Alucard, and adored the fact that he brought that streak out in the younger vampire. It meant Geralt wasn’t interchangeable with anyone else, wasn’t easily replaceable. 

Then Alucard was pushing in again, faster this time, and even more ruthless, choking Geralt on his cock. It filled him until all Geralt could do was feel it inside him. He could only breathe when Alucard allowed his head up, left completely at Alucard’s mercy.

Sooner than he expected, Geralt found himself held tightly to Alucard’s groin, with that cock completely sheathed in his throat. It swelled and pulsed inside of him, forcing him to choke and swallow around it. His throat milked that orgasm right out as come spilled inside of him. Alucard curled around him and moaned like a dying thing; every muscle was tense, and Alucard's hips twitched and jerked, shoving his cock in deeper. Hot tears dripped down Geralt’s face and his vision blurred. His body was on fire and the world swam around him as he struggled to stay still, to let Alucard hold him down for as long as it took. 

When Alucard finally pulled his head away, Geralt gasped for breath. Drool and a thick string of come dripped out of his mouth, sliding after Alucard’s softening cock. He couldn’t move, and he didn’t even try to, either. His head hung limp in Alucard’s grip as he knelt there panting.

“You are so beautiful,” Alucard said roughly, voice still wrecked. He pulled Geralt up by his hair, forcing him to kneel up and stretch to meet Alucard’s kiss.

The kiss was slower than the ones they shared before, but deeper. Alucard’s tongue plunged in, licking away all the traces of himself from Geralt’s mouth.

He wasn’t sure when they ended up on the bed again, only realizing that fact when the kiss ended. Their legs were tangled uncomfortably, boots and armor not making for easy cuddling. Geralt’s head was resting on Alucard’s shoulder and upper arm, and he felt the soft drag of cloth over his neck. Alucard was cleaning him up, wiping up that little bit of blood from the bite marks now littering his throat. 

Geralt swallowed hard and nosed in a little closer, rubbing right into Alucard’s neck. He let the scent of the two of them together block out everything else, and tangled his fingers into Alucard’s coat. Given all of their armor, it was a little awkward, but right at that moment Geralt felt too much like a melted puddle to care. 

“I went overboard,” Alucard said softly, his fingers gentle on Geralt’s throat.

Geralt snorted softly in amusement. That was putting it lightly. “I enjoyed it.” Fuck, but his voice sounded rough. He tried to parse through his feelings and reactions, to put into words what he felt. It was a complicated mix.

“I like the thought of you sporting my marks when we leave this room, for all to see.” Alucard’s voice was much calmer now, but there was still that thread of possessiveness lurking just under the surface.

Light as a feather, Geralt kissed Alucard’s throat. “I’m happy to wear them.” He curled in a bit tighter to Alucard’s body, soaking in as much touch as he could. “It’s never bothered me, showing where my affection lies. I love that you care enough to want to mark me.” 

“I do,” Alucard said. “I can’t mark Dracula. His body is untouchable in that respect. I’m not brave enough to try and change him. I have nothing to tell the world he’s mine. But I can mark you. I think of it sometimes, all the ways I could put my claim on you.” Alucard’s voice was soft, almost dreamy. “Sometimes when I see you laughing and training with your friends at Kaer Morhen I imagine I come up to you, press you down and fuck you where they can see. So that they know, without a doubt, that you are mine. Every piece of you.”

That made Geralt’s eyebrows raise in surprise a bit. He’d expect that sort of reaction from Dracula, but not from Alucard. Maybe it shouldn’t be much of a surprise, though. Alucard had lived a long, lonely life, with what seemed like very little in the way of emotional attachments. Add in the corrupting influence of Dracula’s power, and the vampiric instincts on top of that, and even the calm, cool Alucard would be affected. 

More importantly, Geralt understood that a lot of this reaction stemmed from fear. Loving was a dangerous thing, because once you cared about something there was always the chance that it could go away.

He nuzzled into Alucard’s neck again, ridiculously pleased that the vampire would let him so close to such a vulnerable spot. “They know. They can smell you on me, always. Witchers aren’t as good as a hunting hound, but we can notice individual scents. Our scents mingle so often and so thoroughly that they can all tell.” He laid a careful kiss over Alucard’s pulse. “More importantly, they can see it. They see how happy I am, how much I love you. They look at me with wonder, because I have never been as happy as I am now. That is because of you and Dracula.”

Alucard brought him closer with a strong hand on his hip.

“When I met you, it was like seeing the sunrise again. I spent a lot of time among humans, yet you were so uniquely more alive than any other human I met. You breathed fresh air into my life, our life. I don’t think you realise how much you changed our life. Dracula is softer and more playful than I have ever seen him. I find myself liking people again, spending time among the living in ways I haven't in centuries.” Alucard’s voice was very soft now. “You changed my life.”

Geralt’s heart thundered in his chest, tight and sweet. Words failed him for a moment and he pressed his eyes closed. “I am so glad I’ve helped.” Such paltry words for how much love he felt in that moment. 

“It’s not what you did,” Alucard said. “It’s who you are that makes the difference.”

All he could do was breathe and hold Alucard tight. This was everything he wanted, this love. But something tender and painful caught in his chest. Geralt had to ask. 

“When I let your father mark me, when I traded part of my soul for his, I asked him if he would look down on me for my past. Seeing a former lover made you angry, but I’ve had a lot of former lovers. Probably more than you guess. I love that you want all the world to know that I am yours. And honestly, I find myself wanting to mark you the same way. So that everyone who sees you can tell you’re mine.” He paused a moment and tried to choose his words, struggling to articulate what he needed to say. “Do you care that I’ve been so free with my affections? You were angry. But this is part of who I am. Was. You and Dracula are all I want now, but there were many years where I looked for comfort wherever I could.”

“It wasn’t anger,” Alucard insisted. “I have a lot of practice controlling that. It was jealousy. And that is not something I have had practice with.” Alucard pushed Geralt’s hair away from his face, his touch careful and oddly reminiscent of Dracula. “I loved my wife, but I was barely a child then myself. I cannot be jealous of Dracula, for I can barely stand the full impact of his attention.” Alucards thumb dragged over Geralt’s lip. “You are an unknown. I told you once that I am not a creature of lust like my Father. I do not yearn for touch the way you or he do. And I cannot promise I won't get jealous or possessive of you again, nor can I forsee how I would react to any other lovers of yours I might meet in the future.”

Then Alucard smiled, a wry twist of lips that Geralt never saw on him before.

“But since you already sold your soul to my Father, you will just have to deal with me as you deal with him.”

Geralt laughed. “So, with pleasure and enthusiasm?”

“Something along those lines, yes,” Alucard laughed too, and his hands slid down to Geralt’s waist again. “We had better fix your clothes before Hans gets an eyeful of what no longer belongs to him.” 

Then he moved lower and reached for Geralt’s soft cock. Slowly, he tucked Geralt in, carefully doing the laces up again. There was something about the attentive way that Alucard righted his pants and armor that made Geralt melt a little. The actions were done with a loving attention to detail that showed that Alucard cared how Geralt looked, and was happy to set him to rights. It was worth it to let him do it, to just sit back and enjoy the feeling of being cared for. 

When Geralt moved to do the same for Alucard, he was stopped with a whispered, “No. Let me.” 

Power trickled around them, like static right before a lightning bolt, and the scent of Alucard’s magic filled the air. Blue and black streaks of energy slithered over them, featherlight on Geralt’s skin. They wrapped around Alucard’s body and solidified, righting his clothing and returning the armored claw gauntlets to his hands. 

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” Geralt said with a little shiver. The smug smirk he got in return told him Alucard was well aware of that fact.

They only had another moment or two of breathing in each other’s scent, of holding close together, before there was a knock at the door. To Geralt’s vast surprise, Hans didn’t just burst in right after. There was an incredibly long pause, and a second knock instead.

A snicker escaped him, and he shook his head. “Come on. Portal time.”

He stood up, reluctant to move away from the circle of Alucard’s arms. They both took one final moment to straighten each other’s clothes. Geralt smoothed out his cloak on Alucard's shoulders. Alucard’s clawed fingers lingered on Geralt’s collar, sending a shiver through him.

It really was too damn bad that they were on a time table. 

His neck ached a bit from all the bites, and there were a lot of them. The pain was a distant thing, though. Geralt was enhanced enough that it took a fairly extreme amount of it to even register as a problem. He could feel it was there, but it was easily suppressed.

The marks themselves, however, wouldn’t be so easily ignored. He probably looked like he got mauled. Which wasn’t really far from the truth, actually. 

When he opened the door, Hans was standing on the other side, leaning on the wall. His face was pale and he looked a bit nervous, but the moment he caught sight of Geralt, and his neck, his face turned almost waxen. 

“Oh Gods,” he whispered. “That’s. I mean. Holy...” His eyes were as wide as dinner plates. 

Geralt smirked at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

But Hans was staring behind him now. 

A quick glance showed that Alucard stood there. He’d left the hood on the cloak down, showing off his uncanny features. Most of the feeling of crackling power had died down, but Geralt could still sense a touch of it in the air, right along with the faint smell of frost and wolf’s fur. 

Alucard didn’t quite bare his teeth, but his look was cold and foreboding. One clawed hand reached up to rest right at the nape of Geralt’s neck. 

The clear staking of claim had Geralt torn between preening and snickering. Gods, Alucard really was acting like Dracula tonight. Geralt managed to restrain his amusement, but only just. 

Hans swallowed hard, and ushered them as quickly as he could into his work room proper. Geralt knew that Hans wasn’t powerful enough to send them alone, so he went with them into the magic circle. 

What followed was the fastest portalling that Geralt had ever taken part in. They had barely arrived outside of Novigrad’s city wall when Hans grabbed the bag of coin from Geralt’s hand and portaled away. He hadn’t even waited to count it.

They sat in silence for a moment, blinking. Then Alucard actually shifted a little in place, smug satisfaction all but radiating from him. 

Now Geralt laughed. 

\--

Eskel hung in his chains and waited for nightfall. 

Dracula had stayed next to him for most of the morning, keeping a soothing hand on his neck and side. When the sunbeam from the window crept forward enough to finally shine close to them, Dracula retreated to the other side of the room. Eskel could still feel his power, though, wrapping around his body wherever the light didn’t touch. 

When the guards finally came that afternoon, they didn’t even seem to notice that his face and hands were cleaner than they should have been. They just went straight in to the beating. 

It was more challenging than Eskel expected to hang there and pretend to be nearly insensible with pain. He wanted to spit and sneer, to challenge them with his eyes and his anger. But this was Dracula’s game, and they were on Dracula’s coin, so he suffered through with a minimum of noise. 

Once the guards left it was easier to slump down against his chains. Everything hurt again, although not as badly as it had the day before. His ribs had taken a good thrashing again, although so far his lungs seemed clear. Blood poured down his nose and his lips, even after the customary bucket of water over the head. 

As he waited, he alternately seethed and sulked. 

On one hand, the repetitive pain had long since started to fray at his mind, and somehow knowing that he would be healed at night only to be beaten again during the day made it worse. It buzzed in his brain, and made him want to snarl. There was a bizarre futility to it all. It was galling to know that Dracula was just watching him as he got the shit kicked out of him, too, though that was soothed by the annoyance and seething rage he felt in the air. How he could fucking feel Dracula’s mood just based on the prickling pressure of the shadows around him did not bode fucking well.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been beaten to near death on jobs before. Hell, he even did a bit of bare knuckle fighting for extra coin from time to time. This kind of damage wasn’t even unusual for him, though he generally relied on his potions to keep him healed up. It was just usually he had a swinging chance to take the other fighters down with him. 

Steingard didn’t bother to show up at all that day, though Eskel didn’t truly expect him to. It would probably take another day or two for that asshole to get impatient enough with Geralt to come back to gloat. 

And Eskel had no doubts that it would take Geralt at least a few days to get to them. He was way the hell over in Kaedwen, which was a few weeks' journey away on horse. Knowing Geralt, he probably could con a mage or sorceress into giving him a portal, but that still might take a few days. Then there was the matter of him actually working through whatever trap Steingard had laid for him.

All in all, there were probably several days worth of beatings left.

As soon as the last bit of sunlight died from the window, Dracula was there in front of him. 

“Well played today.” Dracula’s voice was low and pleased. 

One clawed hand caressed Eskel’s aching jaw, and he struggled not to lean into it. Instead he just closed his eyes and swallowed the blood that had pooled up in his mouth.

“I think I might hate you,” Eskel slurred softly. 

Dracula just laughed, and tilted his chin up, slotting their mouths together.

Power, pure and dark, poured into Eskel, sliding down his throat in a thick, powerful rush. Every nerve screamed. Again he could feel Dracula’s hands on him, holding him still, and forcing his mouth open. Making him drink it down.

This time Eskel tried to swallow, tried to take it in, but it was too much. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe at all underneath the crushing weight of that power. Pleasure and agony both roared through him, and if he had any air to give he would have been screaming from it. Everything was hot and good and so fucking painful that it blotted out all other thought, all other sensation beyond what was racing through his body.

That moment hung like an eternity, and then was ruthlessly cut off. It couldn’t have taken more than a minute, though, because Eskel was gasping for breath, his lungs burning and his chest tight. Everything was tight. His cock was so hard and sensitive, and his skin felt like it had been flayed off of him. 

Dracula just cuddled up close to him. Again he threaded one hand through Eskel’s hair, and the other he wrapped around Eskel’s hip. Then he shoved one leg in between Eskel’s and lifted, letting him sit on Dracula’s knee as it pressed against the wall. 

That movement rubbed right against Eskel’s needy cock, and he moaned like a damn whore. His hips jerked into the movement, but Dracula’s hand on him held him still. After that, Dracula just leaned forward, all but crushing Eskel into the wall and nearly completely covering him.

“Oh fuck, whyyy,” Eskel moaned. His mouth was dry, and voice hoarse and rough. It took everything he had to not struggle in Dracula’s grip, though he didn’t delude himself into thinking he’d be trying to get away. “Why would you put your leg there, oh Gods.”

The pressure on him increased for a moment as Dracula pressed him into the wall. It felt so good, so amazingly good, to be held, to feel that strength holding him up, and to be wrapped up in the scent of Dracula’s body and power. It blocked out everything about the awful room they were in. The sight and smell of that filthy fucking place and his own spilled blood were completely obscured. All Eskel could focus on was the burning hot body against him and how blissfully good it felt to be crushed so closely together.

“Doesn’t it feel better this way?” Dracula asked smoothly, and Eskel could hear the smirk in his voice. He couldn’t see it, though, because currently he had his face buried in Dracula’s neck. Again. “I can hold you still for as long as need be, and give you all the contact your body craves.”

A deep shudder rolled through him, and he bit back a whine. Fuck, his body couldn’t decide if it wanted to writhe or melt. Heat clenched inside of him and everywhere Dracula touched only made it burn hotter. Without even realizing it, his hips struggled to twitch forward, to rub his trapped cock against the leg and hip pressed against him, but Dracula’s grip held him still. He didn’t know if he should be grateful or furious. 

He shuddered again and rubbed his nose up under Dracula’s jaw. There, half buried in warm skin and soft hair, was the most wonderful scent. Fresh burning wood and blood, mixed with skin and magic. Eskel wanted to smother himself in it. He wanted to run screaming from it, too.

Some distant, fuzzy part of his brain realized he never did this. Never spent so much time just touching. Not even his lovers. It just never happened…this touching, cuddling. Not until he met Geralt’s vampires. First Alucard with his incessant desire to cuddle, up to a point where he would sneak into Eskel's bed at night if Geralt and Dracula were gone or busy. But Eskel could almost expect it from Alucard, who was soft and warm. The last one he expected this from was Dracula. The man was a chaotic lord, power personified. Angry and aloof, he didn’t seem like a good candidate. And yet here Eskel was, being touched and cuddled, held, even comforted by the man he would have least expected this behavior from. He probably would never admit it out loud, but it did feel good. It filled a void inside him he was so used to he didn't even notice its existence anymore. 

With a supreme amount of force, he tilted his head up to look at Dracula’s face. Amazingly, Dracula actually let him. 

“You gonna feed?” Eskel said, panting quietly. His heart was beating fast as a bird’s, and it was hard to focus on anything beyond Dracula’s skin in front of him and the silky hair that haloed him. 

“Soon,” Dracula said quietly. “Your body needs a little time to properly absorb whatever power it can.”

Rather than answer, Eskel just closed his eyes and waited. His whole body thrummed with need. When Dracula started to gently stroke his hair, he couldn’t stop the helpless little whimper that escaped him.

“Soon. You’re doing well.” The low, grumbling words sent shoots of pleasure right up Eskel’s body.

All of that lovely, pale skin was laid out right in front of him. He struggled against the temptation to sink his teeth into it. To lick and suck, his mouth all but watering with the imagined taste.

“Have you been bitten before? Here?” Eskel breathed the words into Dracula’s skin. He wasn’t even really sure of what he was saying, only that all he could think about was finding some kind of release. 

“Yes. Alucard feeds from me.” Dracula’s deep murmur brought up all manner of good feelings inside of Eskel. 

He shuddered hard. Why had he asked that? Eskel knew the answer already. It was probably because he was thinking of taking a bite himself, but a small part of his brain was still screaming that was the opposite of what he wanted to do.

“Let Geralt bite you,” he said instead. “He never used to mark up the working girls and lads. They’ve got wares to sell. But he did for others.” 

Eskel tried not to think about their occasional duo trips to the brothels. Or about the stories that Geralt would tell about his other flames. Or about the things he heard from third parties. 

“Did he?” There was a thread of something vaguely possessive in Dracula’s voice, and Eskel whined and struggled again in his grip. Fuck, the things that voice did to him when he was all worked up on Dracula’s power.

It took several more hard breaths for Eskel to control himself enough to speak again. Talking helped. If he could keep talking, maybe he could keep himself from doing something truly embarrassing. Like sucking a bruise into that perfect skin under his lips. 

“He likes it. It’s fun. But…” Eskel shook his head. The scent of blood and arousal filled everything. It was so hard to think. “I think he always wanted something permanent, but he knew he couldn’t have it. Witchers don’t get to have nice things like that. Leaving a little love mark was the closest he could get to it. They’d remember him until it faded, at least.” 

“I don’t need something as fleeting as a bite mark to remember you,” Dracula rumbled low in his chest. “I shared power with you, and I have tasted your blood afterwards. Your scent, your taste is now forever etched in my mind.” Dracula tilted head head enough to rub the side of his face against Eskel's hair. “You smell almost like _mine_.” 

A powerful shudder raced through Eskel and his breath caught in his chest. Those words sent an ache through him, echoed inside his bones. They felt like food when he’d been starving, unexpected and treasured all the same. He might have made a noise, a small sound of want and relief, but all he could do was bury his face into Dracula’s coat and neck. He couldn’t think of what to say. Could barely breathe around the idea of it. 

Part of him was terrified of the idea that Dracula might actually claim him, like Geralt had been claimed. But part of him wanted that kind of sense of home. For as long as Eskel had known him, Geralt always held out hope that he could have love. Acceptance. Eskel always damn well knew that witchers could expect none of that. 

To hear Dracula say he would be remembered, that was something. More than he ever expected to have, in any case. Dracula would live for as long as the world did, Eskel thought, and to always be remembered by such a being was very nearly like having a place to belong.

That was one of the reasons they all kept coming back to Kaer Morhen, years after it had been destroyed. It was the only place in the world where they _belonged_. 

Only Geralt found a way. That ridiculous bastard found a way around everything that set witchers apart from humans and possible long term partners. Longevity? The vampire’s lifespan was so much longer than any witcher's. Physical strength? Again, more than a match. Magic? Apparently sorceresses were not enough for Geralt, he had to go and find a force of Chaos. 

Somewhere deep, mostly unnoticed, there was a small ember of jealousy burning. Eskel lived his life calm and steady in the face of what was and wasn’t possible for a witcher. His equilibrium derived from acceptance of reality. To watch Geralt break through everything he believed possible shook that worldview for Eskel, and opened wounds he was sure were long scarred over. Now they bled, the background pain coming to the surface again.

“I don’t like being alone,” he blurted out, not really thinking what he was saying, too lost in confused thoughts and feelings and too overwhelmed with the warmth and closeness of the powerful body pressing him against the wall.

“And if there were a way to ease the loneliness?” Dracula’s body shifted against Eskel, one hand going to Eskel’s ass and hitching him higher against Dracula’s body. He gasped at the sensation of the body dragging against his. Then he gasped again when Dracula pressed him against the wall hard enough that breathing was slowly starting to be a problem. But Eskel didn't care. He was too lost in the shivers wracking his body, in the heat that burned just under his skin, and the sweet relief the contact gave him. This close he could feel the steady, strong beat of Dracula’s heart in his chest.

“There isn’t,” Eskel said bitterly, still unsure how to feel about being crushed and held. In his half crazed state, it almost felt like Dracula cared, but that was ridiculous. The vampire’s interests were very clear, and nearly everyone involved with him had been extremely blunt about how little Dracula cared for humans. “All witchers know this. But Geralt cheated, and he found you two.”

“I’m very fond of stepping off the beaten path.” Dracula dragged his cheek against Eskel’s again, like a cat marking his territory. “I followed the holy path set out for me, to save humanity, to save the lost souls trapped in limbo.” He laughed, a low, bitter sound. “And look what waited for me at the end of the path. So if a little cheating is what you need to be happy? Go for it.”

Eskel tried to shake his head in confusion, but he only ended up rubbing into Dracula’s cheek. He wasn’t sure what Dracula was getting at. His brain was starting to overload with the feel of skin against skin, the scent of fire and power, and with the desire churning in his gut. 

“Take it away,” he gasped, squirming helplessly in Dracula’s grip. He wanted to touch, wanted to fuck, to cry, needed something to ease the ache in his cock. The cuddling was amazing, but his skin was just a riot of goosebumps and his wrists ached from how much he was straining them against the cuffs to reach for Dracula. He feared that a little longer and it wouldn’t be the bite he would be begging for.

“Hmmm,” Dracula murmured pulling back a little and looking Eskel in the eye. “Show me where you want me to bite,” he demanded in a low, rough voice.

A wanton shiver raced through Eskel, and his eyes fluttered for a moment. Fuck, Dracula was going to kill him. Just fucking murder him from all the blinding need that filled him up. He craved that touch and Dracula damn well knew it. 

Carefully, slowly, Eskel let his head tilt, baring his neck to Dracula’s fangs. He almost wished he could move to part his hair, to do something, anything other than just wait for that bite. The urge to close his eyes was strong, but he forced himself to watch Dracula. To show the mix of frustration, want, and bitterness that filled him. He knew just how little choice he had with the bite. He wouldn’t be able to stand that power for long and not lose his mind. They both knew it. But Eskel was starting to not care, and that was as frightening as anything else that had ever happened to him. 

“Very good.” The praise felt both good and terrible, bringing it all home. What he was doing here, and the position he was in. But the brush of long hair against his neck, soft and cool, only sent spikes of want down his body. The sensation curled down his spine and tightened around his cock as the power under his skin looked for a way out. Then hot breath fanned over his skin and surprisingly cool lips touched his neck. He gasped, arching helplessly towards Dracula, and then gasped again when he felt the first press of fangs against his skin.

The bite was slow, like a simulacrum of fucking. As the fangs pierced his skin, Eskel was aware of every single millimeter of them. The pain was minimal, barely noticeable by witcher standards, but the pleasure that followed was enough to white out Eskel’s vision. The pleasure felt even more intense than before. Like every nerve ending, every little piece of his soul, was being slowly dragged out of him in the most amazingly exquisite way possible. His whole body tightened and his lungs locked. Eskel was sure he was making noise, but he was blind and deaf with the pleasure of those slow, steady sucks. He could feel hot trails shooting up from his body, all directed towards the bite site as the power Dracula breathed into him finally found a way to go back to its rightful owner. 

Just like the first time, the bite seemed to last for ages. Not that Eskel could have said how long they stayed intertwined. All he felt was pleasure; it burned through him over and over again, so intense that it became his whole world. 

It was both desperate loss and a blessed relief when it was done. Again, little licks picked up every bit of blood around the wound, and Eskel very nearly purred with happiness. He definitely did make some kind of noise, because he felt Dracula’s huff of amusement.

“You’re very cat-like,” Dracula said quietly, pleasure evident in his voice. 

Eskel’s mind had cleared now that Dracula’s overwhelming power wasn’t driving him to distraction anymore. He was still horny as fuck, but he knew that would happen. Despite the hard ache in his cock, Eskel was far more relaxed now that the insane need was gone. It was almost as if he felt he could enjoy the closeness, knowing that it was really just him wanting it and not whatever that dark power inside of him drove him to want. 

With the return of clarity, though, came some of Eskel’s acidic nature. While he had to admit that he sort of felt cat-like, all curled up into Dracula’s arms, there was no way he’d ever take a comment like that without at least a bit of pushback

He was also still riding Dracula’s thigh, his cock pressed tightly to that hard muscle, and he really needed that to stop before his very sensitive body decided that an orgasm was still on the menu.

“I’d hiss at you, but I feel like that would only prove your point,” Eskel said. He wanted to glare, but it still felt so good to be wrapped up in Dracula’s arms, to have the burning heat of Dracula’s body holding him off the ground. The best he could do was half-heartedly scowl, while trying not to rub himself against anything.

Dracula only laughed at him, the vibration of it traveling from his body to Eskel’s through all the places they were pressed together.

“Cat,” the vampire said with a chuckle. Then he started petting Eskel’s head, his hand big and warm against the back of Eskel’s head.

Eskel scowled, working really hard to deny how good it felt. 

“Let me down,” he demanded, hoping to sound rough but only managing a half dreamy sigh. Then Dracula’s hand threaded through his hair and gently scratched along his scalp. Eskel melted, and a tiny moan escaped him. He couldn’t help but tilt his head a little farther into the blissful touch. 

“It’s not a lover you miss,” Dracula said thoughtfully. “It’s the physical closeness, the acceptance and safety of somebody knowing you and taking you as you are.”

That struck far too close to the truth, and each word was like a stabbing pain to Eskel’s chest. To acknowledge it out loud would be like admitting that it was fact. Eskel already had to live with the reality of his life, he didn’t need to think about it, too. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. Witchers lived alone. Maybe they shared time with others, but nothing ever lasted. 

So while hearing Dracula lay his weakness out like that was disheartening and painful, Eskel kept his misery to himself. As best he could, anyways. Somehow, he got the feeling that it was near impossible to hide anything from Dracula’s sight. 

Dracula started scritching his fingers against Eskel’s scalp again, humming deep in his chest. It felt wonderful, and Eskel closed his eyes, savoring the experience. He’d keep the memory of it stored away in his mind for the lonely times that were sure to come later.

“I’m not as fickle as the humans you fight to protect.”

“Mmmrph?” Eskel took a quick breath, trying to rouse himself, but the warm closeness of Dracula’s body on his was easy to relax into. That hand on his head kept petting him, too. Eskel wondered how long he could convince Dracula to keep it up. “Fickle?” A short laugh escaped him. “I remember a whole host of dire warnings about the tricksy nature of Chaos gods.” 

He shivered a little. Just because he was wrapped up in Dracula’s power, didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware of how terrifying it could be.

“Nonsense,” Dracula scoffed. “I’m very helpful to those I like.” 

“I’m glad you like Geralt,” Eskel said quietly. “He’s a good man. Better than most. I’m glad he’s so happy.”

“What I feel for him is substantially more than mere like,” Dracula argued. “He’s mine, marked and bound, never to be free of me again.”

“Oh good,” Eskel said with a smirk. “Because we were all drawing straws on who should give you the shovel talk. We do it every time we all get together, but the sorceresses cheat, and us witchers keep getting all the short straws.” He snorted, and rolled his eyes a little. “One of us would probably do it, except we all cheat, too, and we know damn well that they’re using magic to rig the game. So every time we all just end up putting it off.”

He melted a bit more into that blissful stroking of his hair. Eskel knew he needed to meditate, to gain balance again after the power Dracula breathed into him pushed it out of whack. He could ask Dracula to get the cuffs open again, but he stayed his tongue, wanting to stay in that embrace a little longer.

“I think he likes being owned like that,” Eskel said muzzily. “Never seen him jealous before.”

Dracula hummed again.

“He is rather protective of Alucard.”

A terrible thought occurred to Eskel, and he froze in place, eyes wide in horror. “Oh Gods, Geralt is going to be furious.” 

All the relaxation and pleasure he had been feeling drained right out of him as he panicked in place.

“Why would he?” Dracula blinked at him in surprise. “We didn’t have sex and I didn’t let you get permanently damaged. There’s barely any mark on you!”

Tension sang through him as Eskel leveled Dracula with a look. “We’ve been very…” He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to point out how intimate and vulnerable he’d been. “Close.” Yes. That was a good word.

“I didn't even strip you.”

“You had your succubi do it for you,” Eskel countered.

Dracula shrugged.

“So? I had my girls do much more to Geralt when he came back half frozen from that hunt with you.”

Eskel shook his head. “Geralt, who never, ever gets jealous, is suddenly very possessive of you both.” He raised an eyebrow at Dracula. “He’ll be unhappy that I was...that we…”

“My darkness corrupts, but it does not create what wasn’t already there,” Dracula stated with that odd echo to his words that Eskel heard a few times before. A mark that he wasn’t a human, but also wasn’t just a vampire either.

That perversely made Eskel feel a bit better. At least whatever Dracula had done to Geralt wasn’t changing his base personality. “Either way, he knows what your bites feel like.” Eskel sighed, and took a deep breath.

Dracula hummed, delightedly.

“I do like it when he comes on my fangs.”

“Too much information,” Eskel said sourly. That thought was never going to go away. It was in his brain now. Irrevocably. He sighed again. “He’s gonna be grumpy as hell.”

“I am hoping for some filthy barbarian display,” Dracula said with that dreamy murmur to his voice.

“Oh Gods, you too? Alucard already told me more than I wanted to ever know about that.” Eskel wished he could scrub his eyes in horror. “You are not listening to me,” Eskel sighed. “He’s going to be upset.”

Dracula looked down at Eskel, looking surprised.

“But he was the one who decided to pull you into the circle of intimacy between us. He was the one holding you in the kitchen when I found you all cuddled in front of the fire.” His lips twisted at the corners. “After abandoning me while I slept.”

Eskel frowned back at him. “Alucard was cold. He fell out of the bed and wandered off. He started in on the whole…cuddling thing. Geralt just kind of got dragged along.” He paused. “Which, by the way, you need to take better care of Alucard when he’s like that. He shouldn’t be wandering around when he’s all stoned out of his head.”

Dracula huffed.

“Have you actually tried to keep my son in place? Have you? It’s an exercise in frustration, I can tell you now.”

“Have you tried an extra blanket?” After all, it was cold that caused Alucard to wander. 

“He turns intangibile even when he sneezes,” Dracula said flatly. “And do you know how he fell out of that bed?” He looked Eskel seriously in the eye. “He turned intangibile in his sleep and fell through the floor.” Dracula sounded endlessly frustrated. “And do you know how I know that? Because he fell asleep with Geralt still sprawled on top of him.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you don’t have some kind of impossible shadow power that might keep him in place?” Eskel closed his eyes a moment. What was he even saying. 

“If it was a fight to the death, yes, I could cause so much pain his thought process would be interrupted, making him unable to cast magic. Outside of those means? No, I have no way of holding him still.”

Because of course nothing was ever easy. Eskel let his head drop onto Dracula’s shoulder as he worked through the problem. “Fix up the room under Geralt’s. I think it’s a storeroom now. Keep a fire there and someplace comfortable for him to sleep. Or…”

He stopped that thought in its tracks. Volunteering for anything with these three was a bad plan and he knew it. Better just to keep his mouth shut. 

“He wouldn’t be so cold if he ate more,” Dracula muttered, but his eyes were watching Eskel thoughtfully, almost as if he caught what Eskel wasn’t saying.

“Why doesn’t he?” Eskel asked, curious. 

“Morals, beliefs, stupidity, stubbornness.” Dracula shrugged. “At first maybe it was because he hoped it would kill him, but my blood is not so weak as to be defeated by hunger alone.” Dracula’s hand slid to the back of Eskel’s neck and squeezed there. “Now he feeds a little more often from me. I think it’s because of Geralt and how much Geralt approves.”

That made Eskel smirk with pride. “Geralt’s a practical man.” He paused a moment and thought about how cool Alucard’s skin was. Not quite cold, but definitely cool to the touch. He worried for a moment over it, but then cast it off. Alucard had been managing himself for centuries. If there was any pain or weakness that came from his lack of feeding, no doubt he’d learned to cope or compensate. 

“Geralt isn't the only one protective of my Son, is he?” Dracula asked, watching Eskel with shrewd eyes, the hand on the back of Eskel’s neck tight.

A hot blush spread across Eskel’s face and he glanced to the side. He felt like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and his back prickled with embarrassment. 

“Don’t fret,” Dracula reassured him. “I won’t kill you for that.” The hand on his neck squeezed. Whether it was approvingly or threateningly, Eskel couldn’t be sure.

“Gee, thanks,” Eskel said a bit sarcastically. Then he sobered a bit, and said, “To be honest, I’m sort of in a state of perpetual shock that none of you have killed me yet.”

"My Son and Geralt could use someone close, a loyal friend.” Dracula was again watching Eskel with thoughtful eyes.

Eskel tilted his head in puzzlement. “Geralt has several such friends.” 

“None he lets in this close.” Dracula paused. “That I let this close.”

That actually made Eskel think for a moment. “Alucard has lived a long time alone, hasn’t he.” 

“Yes,” Dracula said, a thread of sadness in his voice. “Loneliness he set upon himself because for the longest time he hated what I made of him so much that he couldn’t stand the thought of experiencing or deserving anything but misery in his second life.”

That was both a terrible shame and incredibly infuriating. Eskel wasn’t sure who he wanted to bash to death more, Alucard for hating himself so much, or the people who made him want to. It was easy to understand the sentiment, though. Eskel was content with his nature, for the most part. He’d eagerly jumped at the chance to go through the Trials that changed him, regardless of the risks. But others, like Lambert, didn’t care for it. They’d been forced onto the Path, and it still rankled. 

“Someone who is as kind as your son shouldn’t be so unhappy,” he said finally. 

“No, he shouldn’t,” Dracula agreed. “It’s why you are such a surprise. Him letting Geralt close was unexpected, but that’s what lovers do. They sneak through your guards and make themselves at home. You, on the other hand, are a different flavor of surprise.”

Heat burned across Eskel’s face, and he ducked his head a little. Why did Dracula’s praise affect him so much? He hadn’t done anything special. And, really, it was Eskel who was the one who was most surprised. 

“I’m not really sure what I did,” he grumbled, embarrassed again. “Target of opportunity maybe. Hell, the first day we met I spent the whole afternoon bitching at him.”

“You must only do all that you have been doing ‘til now, be a loyal friend who would never betray their confidence.” Dracula was leaning close, his scent enveloping Eskel, making it hard to think clearly when he felt wisps of long black hair touching his face.

Eskel looked up at him, startled and offended. “I would _never_. But…by confidence…you know how much they talk, right? I’m not sure that things said to me are, um, strictly held in secret. So if that’s a concern for you, you might want to talk to them. Please. Because I don’t actually need to hear about the details of your sex life.”

Dracula laughed, the sound vibrating against Eskel’s skin.

“Never turn against them, never try to harm, never betray the loyalty they believe you gave them.” Gods, Dracula was so close, warmth and the burning embers scent of power pouring off of him in waves. Eskels skin tingled, his body still too aware of Dracula.

The sheer strength of Dracula’s essence all around them made Eskel’s senses go a bit haywire. Maybe it was just the topic at hand, but everything seemed both overwhelming and intense, and Eskel struggled a bit against it. 

He was still kind of fucking offended though.

“Geralt is my brother, and Alucard is my friend. I would not _ever_ betray them,” he snarled the words out, baring his teeth at Dracula, for all the good it would do him. 

The light in Dracula’s eyes was brighter, the corners tilted up a little in a smile that didn't reach his lips.

“I agree,” he said unexpectedly formally and then leaned in to place a delicate kiss on Eskel’s temple.

Now Eskel was thoroughly confused. He stared at Dracula, baffled. “That’s...good? I’m glad you agree that I won’t betray them?” 

Especially since that meant the likelihood of Death By Chaos Lord went down.

Dracula was looking even more pleased now, the corners of his lips pulling even more.

“I’m sure you won’t.”

That sounded incredibly ominous.

Eskel was suddenly aware of the fact that he was crushed against a wall, still chained up and unable to move. Unease shivered through him as he remembered just what kind of being he was cuddled up next to. Dracula was powerful and mercurial, and no little bit terrifying. What was worse, his motivations and reasons were unclear and unpredictable. Eskel could never guess what he would do and it only made him that much more dangerous. 

Despite his unease, he felt good. Safe and calm. Dracula’s absolute confidence was doing wonders to soothe his frayed nerves. If there was a blush tingling at his cheeks as he pushed his head into the crook of Dracula’s neck, well, there was noone to see it. The warm, wide palm on the back of his head felt good too. Safe. The other hand was still wrapped around Eskel’s hip, keeping him still and suspended against the wall, all of his weight on Dracula. Even his arms didn’t ache from the upraised position. He breathed in the dark scent and consoled himself with the knowledge Dracula was going to pay through the nose for the things Eskel had to go through in this dungeon. Until then he had this, the guilty pleasure of being held close like a precious treasure and petted like a favored cat.

He had no idea how much time passed with them slotted against each other like that, long enough he started drifting off, his head pillowed on an armored shoulder. He only woke up when Dracula shifted, changing the distribution of their weight.

“Do you want some food? It’s not long ‘til down now.”

Shit. Dawn. 

He nodded. “Please.”

“As you wish,” Dracula murmured, reaching for the cuffs while the whole cell was swallowed by boiling shadows that hurt to look at. 

By the time Eskel blinked the stinging spots out of his eyes, the room was transformed into what he had seen the night before. There was a table heavy with foods, heavy wooden chairs, a privacy screen in the corner, and even two beautiful succubi reaching for Eskel’s arms as the cuffs gave.

If he had to suffer the beatings, at least this part wasn’t so bad.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt led Alucard through the city. Novigrad was a port town, and an incredibly prosperous one at that. Even in the wee hours of the night, people still filled the streets. Perhaps not as many as there would be during the day, but more than enough to make Geralt and Alucard seem like just another pair of travelers. 

“The Golden Stallion is near the docks district,” Geralt said quietly. “Not quite in the seedy parts, but not really a posh place either. Roughs and toughs are common there. I’ll fit right in.” He smirked. 

Even though Alucard didn’t say anything, Geralt knew he was listening; he could feel Alucard watching him. As a precaution Alucard had covered back up with Geralt’s cloak, so all that could be seen of his face was just a hint of his mouth. 

“We’ll need to get a room. I want to look the Stallion over before going in. You need someplace to stay during the day. The note didn’t say to come alone, but I’d rather not let anyone there see you if possible. Better to keep your presence as a fun surprise.”

Again, Alucard didn’t answer. 

As they walked, Geralt could feel the way Alucard’s eyes kept coming back to Geralt’s neck. It made him aware of the bites littering his skin, the neat double row of marks there, in ways he wouldn’t otherwise be. It wasn't like they hurt. His insane pain threshold meant he wasn’t even aware of the rapidly healing marks. Or wouldn’t be, if Alucard didn’t keep staring at them and smelling of _want_. Gods, did he smell of lust. It was driving Geralt to distraction.

One half of Geralt’s mind was planning out their approach. Whoever took Dracula had to have watchers at the Golden Stallion. Watchers at the city gates were possible, but a touch impractical. There were several major entrances to the city, not to mention the docks themselves, and to have someone watching all of them all day and night would take a ridiculous amount of people. That meant that the fact that Geralt didn’t arrive alone would probably go unnoticed. Geralt was fairly sure they could get a room near enough to the Stallion to be useful. 

The other half of Geralt’s mind was solely focused on Alucard’s scorching hot gaze. Fuck, but it was distracting. He knew he needed to be on his guard here. Novigrad was a rough town, and there were a lot of powerful people who made their livings there, many of whom did so in unsavory ways. Having Alucard’s scent tickling his nose made him tense. All he wanted to do was go find a nice quiet spot to get some of that lust out of their systems, and then maybe he could concentrate on figuring out what the hell was going on. 

Geralt had to work at appearing grim, at not glancing over at Alucard ever few moments. Eventually his patience snapped and he dragged Alucard down a series of alleyways. This time of night, it was fairly easy to get away from the crowd; two turns in and they were out of sight from anyone passing by. 

As he pulled them to a stop, Geralt pressed Alucard into the alley wall and took a deep breath in, savoring the scent of lust and frost and magic. He pushed the deep hood away from Alucard’s face--the little thrill at Alucard wearing his clothes was back again--and looked into his lover’s golden eyes.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked, inhaling Alucards scent deeply and reveling in the way the lust he could smell spiked suddenly.

“Yes,” Alucard said simply and Geralt was already thinking to where they could get a room for an hour or two. A quick romp in the bedroom should not affect their mission any. Geralt was constantly distracted by the way Alucard smelled as well as the way his own body ached to reciprocate. It would be a good idea to relieve that a little.

“But I won’t.”

 _What?_

Geralt blinked, coming back from his planning.

“Why?” he asked, bewildered, and half hoping he could convince Alucard to change his mind. He would very much like to have Alucard take him while the jealousy ran strong in him. He liked this unexpectedly rough side of his usually gentle lover.

“Because He will want you tight when you find Him,” Alucard said matter of factly, one of his hands reaching for Geralt’s hip and resting there heavily.

Geralt had to run the words twice through his mind to truly believe that was what Alucard said, straight faced and almost in public. Then the heat came. First in his belly, creeping down to his cock, hardening it in his pants, then up to his cheeks where he could feel his blush prickling at his skin.

“Uh,” he said, tongue tied from unexpected arousal and surprise.

“But that’s alright.” Alucard stepped closer then, so close they were suddenly chest to chest. Then he leaned down, letting his hair fall forward, tickling Geralt’s skin. “I quite like getting his sloppy seconds.”

“Fuck.” Geralt swallowed, blindingly hard and more than a little hot under his collar. 

This was a day of revelations it seemed. First, Alucard showed his claws, so to say, and then he suddenly developed an affinity for dirty talk. 

“We could,” he stumbled over his words, strangely wrong footed. “I could take you?” he offered eventually, thinking he would really love to get that pale, hard body under his hands now. His nostrils flared, greedily taking in his lover’s scent, the musk and lust of him.

Alucard leaned in close, so close his lips were brushing Geralt’s when he spoke next.

“No.” Alucard's voice had dropped registers, so smooth and honey sweet that Geralt wanted to lick the words right out of his lips. “Because I think my Father would appreciate it if you went to his rescue all frustrated and _spirited_.”

Geralt had no idea what made him hotter. The image of Alucard wanting him to get wrecked by Dracula before having a go at Geralt himself or the dirty talk that was happening right now.

He shifted them both, pressing Alucard against the brick wall and plastering himself against that hard body, hands on either side of Alucard’s head. 

Alucard just watched him with intense, laughing eyes and did nothing to stop him. He put his other hand on Geralt’s hip. The worst, absolutely worst part was that his hands were doing nothing but resting there.

“I will play your game,” Geralt growled, pinning Alucard against the wall harder. “But after you and Dracula had your fun, I promise to take my time wrecking you, Alucard.” He pushed his knee between Alucard’s, feeling the same thrill as the first time at realizing how easily Alucard spread his legs for him. “I’m going to make you beg, I promise you that.”

Then he was kissing Alucard, licking deep into his mouth and doing his best to fuck in with his tongue if that was the only option available to him.

Alucard gave in eagerly, opening up under his lips, sucking him right in. No reservations, no hesitation. Just giving in to whatever Geralt wanted. It was such a rush, always a turn on, and now it was just a sweet torture. Geralt had them so close together that he could grind his cock against Alucard’s hip; he could feel how hard Alucard was in his pants. He groaned into the kiss, relishing every drag of the tongue, every hitched breath he managed to get out of Alucard.

Too soon, Alucard pulled away from the kiss. They were still tangled together, chest to chest, but he was no longer participating. Geralt made a grumpy, frustrated noise and Alucard chuckled at him.

“Save that for my Father.” Alucard laughed again, pulling gently away from the tight knot Geralt made of their bodies.

“Why are you suddenly picking up all his worst habits?” Geralt managed to pant out.

Alucard looked at him from beneath his lashes, all coy innocence.

“Because you like a challenge,” he smirked. “It’s occurring to me Father really knows how to rile you up. Figured I could learn from him.”

Geralt snorted out a laugh. “That’s true.” He leaned in to run his lips right over Alucard’s jaw, breathing in that wonderful scent of desire and frost and fur. He let his breath tickle right at Alucard’s ear, almost but not quite teasing that sensitive area with his lips as he spoke. “You rile me up, too, you know. So sweet for me that I want to eat you whole. Dracula likes the fight, though, likes it when I finally give in. You up for that?”

He could feel the way his words made Alucard smile.

“Yes.” Just that one little word, full of lust and promise was enough to unfold a hundred dirty images in his mind’s eye, all the things his lovers could do to him, how they could make him feel.

It took a moment to drag his brain back on track after that. Geralt had to close his eyes and breathe, forcefully settling his heartbeat and bringing his body back in line. It looked like Dracula wasn’t the only one who really wanted to play. 

Well, Geralt could accommodate. 

As soon as he felt settled, he pulled back, trailing a finger down Alucard’s jaw as he went. A slow, wicked, hungry smile was on his face, and he was absolutely tickled to see that Alucard’s face mirrored his. 

“We have work to do. Play time after.”

“Yes,” Alucard agreed, his voice still rough from the lust Geralt could smell on him.

“Once we’re done here, you can tell me if you want me happy to serve, or willing to fight you for the pleasure.” Both ideas sounded fantastic. The mood Alucard was in was a strange one, and Geralt was willing to indulge his lover. But Geralt liked being in control, not quite as much as Dracula, but enough. Either way, he wanted to see how this would play out. “Think about what you want.”

“I love you going all beastly on me,” Alucard admitted, voice going rough again. “But I kind of love watching Dracula turn you into a squirming mass of helpless pleasure.” He sounded hilariously torn.

A shiver raced up Geralt’s spine. Yes, both of those things were good. Still, he had to smile. “Noted. Now, you and I need to get a room, and we both need to do some scouting. After that, I’ll look into my old contacts here. While I’m out, I want you to think about what the end of this little adventure might look like.”

“I think my Father has had days already to do nothing _but_ think up the end of this adventure,” Alucard said with a wry little smirk on his lips. He didn't look displeased with the idea, though.

“Gods, but you are right,” Geralt said, casting his eyes heavenward for a moment. “Come on, before I decide to just blow you against the wall here.”

Alucard just blinked at him, looking kinda glassy eyed and stunned. It took a long moment for him to gather himself again.

“Yeah, you're right.” He cleared his throat, peeling himself away from the wall. “Let’s go.”

\--

It was barely morning when Dracula moved away from where Eskel was chained to the wall. Much like the previous morning, he’d stayed close, hands on Eskel’s neck and side, easing him through the unpleasantness of being chained up again. This time, Eskel hadn’t even needed to ask for it. Dracula was just there, ready to comfort him. While that was a little worrying, it was also much appreciated, so Eskel kept his mouth shut about it and let himself take comfort from that powerful body.

But the sun was barely creeping across the floor towards him when Dracula slipped his own chains back on. That meant they were coming, and far sooner than Eskel expected.

He tried to look properly limp and unhappy in his chains. The unhappy part was effortless, because he was pretty _un-fucking-happy_ to still be there. The limpness was both easier and harder. Easier because his body had been healed and refreshed, so holding the position didn’t hurt nearly as much as it once did. Harder because it was incredibly disconcerting to let himself be in such a vulnerable position. Not that he wasn’t already, with the chains stretching his hands above his head, but the need to be on his feet and ready for a fight was so well ingrained that it was instinct. 

Eskel didn’t bother looking up when they came in. If Dracula hadn’t been healing him, he wouldn’t have been able to. So it was a hell of a shock when he hear Steingard’s voice break the silence. 

“I hope you are enjoying my hospitality, witcher,” Steingard said with teeth-grating mirth in his voice. He sounded suspiciously happy today.

Gods, Eskel wanted to punch him in the face. So badly that it burned within him. 

Instead, he just dully lifted his eyes to Steingard and bared his teeth a tiny sliver. Not much in the way of defiance, but enough to be believable. 

Steingard just grinned wider.

 _Asshole_. 

“Now, no need to be grumpy.” Steingard tutted at Eskel. “I bring good news!”

There was a dramatic pause as Eskel stared at him. He blinked, waiting. Then he looked to Dracula, and hoped to the Gods that the vampire could read his mind that moment, because the urge to scream about how ridiculous Steingard was being was incredible.

“Oh no!” Dracula made the quietest, fakest, most frightened little half moan Eskel ever heard in his life. Eskel froze, blinked, and then considered trying to knock himself out by repeatedly hitting his head against the wall. No, just no. He could deal with a lot, but _he could not_ deal with Dracula’s terrible acting.

To Eskel’s complete shock, Steingard didn’t even notice. He only gloated more.

“Oh yes,” Steingard said quietly. He was probably going for menacing, but Eskel had seen Dracula do menacing. This jackass couldn’t hold a candle to that. “I have been informed that Geralt arrived into the city, and with a hooded companion no less.”

Dracula sucked in a breath, as fake and showy as the rest of his performance. Eskel’s groan on the other hand was absolutely heartfelt. It was definitely a sound of despair, but more directed towards Dracula than Steingard. 

“Now I had anticipated that he might bring additional aid.” Steingard began slowly pacing through the room, taking a few steps towards Eskel, and then a few steps more towards Dracula, back and forth. “I wasn’t expecting him to be shy about it, though. A sorceress wouldn’t have bothered hiding, they never do. Nor would a fellow witcher. And why was the companion hooded while Geralt was not? So it occurred to me, perhaps one of you might know who was with him.” 

The smile he gave them both was full of teeth. As much as Eskel wanted to disregard it, the last few weeks of brutal treatment had left their mark. He knew what a smile like that meant.

An awful shudder passed through him as he thought about it. 

“Now. I could ask you, witcher.” Steingard moved towards Eskel. He kept his hands behind his back, as if he were taking a stroll. That slow gait only brought Eskel’s attention to the swinging witcher medallions at Steingard’s waist. Whatever else this man was, he was dangerous. And quite probably mad. 

Eskel rattled his chains but didn’t say anything, disgusted at himself and how much he did not want to be the focus of Steingard’s attention.

“But I think there’s a better candidate here.” Steingard swung suddenly to face Dracula. 

It took Eskel a moment to realize Steingard was standing in the middle of the beam of sunlight that fell on Eskel most of the day. He made a strangely striking figure, illuminated by the early morning light while everything else in the cell was steeped in shadows.

A bit of panic filled him. Alucard had said that sunlight was dangerous, possibly deadly to him. And while Geralt had said that Dracula could not die, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be hurt or crippled. In all the time that Eskel had seen him at Kaer Morhen, never once had Dracula approached the sunlight. Hell, the vampire was almost never around during the day time in general.

Eskel watched Steingard, eyes wide, and prayed that he was wrong about what was about to happen. 

“Guards, if you please.” Steingard waved a hand, and several of the thugs stepped over to Dracula’s cringing form. They unchained him roughly, and all but dragged him over to kneel in front of Steingard.

His face was hidden deep in the hooded cloak that he’d shown up in, so Eskel couldn’t be sure how Dracula was taking this turn of events. 

“Tell me vampire, who is with Geralt? Who would he bring?” Steingard said pleasantly, a benevolent smile gracing his face. 

“I won’t tell you,” Dracula whispered in trembling voice.

Eskel was absolutely certain that the waver in Dracula’s voice was an act. No way Dracula would ever be anything but a viciously grinning monster, especially in the face of death. Or pain. The response was clearly just part of the grand plan.

But Dracula’s clawed hands were being held perilously close to the sunbeam in front of him, and Eskel did not like at all how Steingard grabbed ahold of the dangling chain that connected to the shackles there. 

“Now, now. I’ve been very polite,” Steingard said, looking almost wounded. “I’ll ask you once more, and then I’m afraid I’m going to have to make you tell me.” He wound the chain around his hand, tightening it, dragging Dracula’s hands just a tiny bit closer to the sunlight. “You wouldn’t want that, would you? After all, we’re both gentlemen here. We can act courteously.”

Now Eskel was really starting to worry. He pictured Alucard in his mind, a charred mass of flames and blackened flesh. A gruesome death by any standard. He didn’t really like Dracula, but he didn’t want to see that kind of damage on the vampire. And those hands looked awfully pale. The way Dracula was curling his fingers inwards to increase the distance from the sun looked too natural to be an act. Eskel didn’t have it in him to watch it happen, not when he could prevent it.

 _Just tell him_ , he thought at Dracula. Eskel was staring so hard that Dracula probably felt it like burning on his skin. _Tell him and be done with it. This is all just a stupid fucking game anyways_.

But Dracula just shook his head, a quick, violent movement that didn’t match his previous cringing at all. Eskel was starting to worry.

Steingard sighed in disappointment. “What a pity. I think that Geralt must have kept you around for your looks. Will he like you as much when they’ve been burnt away?” Now the smile came back, vicious as ever. “Don’t worry. We won’t start with your face.”

Then he wrapped his hand around that chain one more time, drawing it taut, and started to pull. 

Right before Dracula’s long clawed nails hit the sunlight, Eskel gasped out, “Wait.” To his vast surprise, Steingard actually did.

“So you do care about Geralt’s squeeze,” Steingard said delightedly. “That is a nice surprise. Maybe I should feed you to him after all.”

Eskel stared at Steingard and the guards that were now coming towards him, and couldn’t help the shiver of apprehension. Not about the feeding, he lost most of his reservations about that sometime around the second time Dracula bit him, but about the gleeful, fascinated look Steingard wasn’t even bothering to hide.

“I will tell you,” Eskel promised. “Just get him away from the sun.”

He wasn’t looking at Dracula, keeping his eyes on the bigger threat right now. But he could feel Dracula looking at him, could feel his skin prickling the same way as when he had Dracula’s power inside him, looking for a way back to its owner.

“Oh.” Steingard made a thoughtful sound and rubbed his gloved fingers over his chin. “I’m sure you will tell me something,” he agreed. “But how can I be sure it will be the truth?”

After a wave of Steingard’s hand, the guards dragged Dracula back to his place against the wall and chained him up again. The two that were already headed for Eskel were surprisingly not starting to beat him up right away. Instead they knelt down and started shackling Eskel’s legs with a set of heavy irons.

Fuck. 

There went his footing.

He could fight with his arms bound, but losing the freedom of his legs and arms at the same time did not bode well for him.

After they secured his legs, the guard got up and reached for his chains, opening them while keeping hands on Eskel’s arms the whole time. He wasn’t given even a moment to adjust to change in position before his arms dragged behind him and shackled again. If he hadn’t been healed by Dracula, he would have passed out from the pain of such an abrupt change in position alone, not to mention the other injuries he should have had.

They dragged him to the table he’d been eyeing since he got thrown in there. Even though the scent was old, he could still smell the blood on it. Lots of blood. He knew what it was for even without the shackles hanging from the ends. One was clearly for strapping in a neck, and the ones on the sides were probably for securing limbs. He didn’t want to get anywhere close to that table, that was for sure. He wondered if getting paid was worth it. How far did Steingard mean to take this, and how far would Dracula let things go? The contract they had meant no permanent damage, but seeing how much and how fast Dracula could heal, Eskel wasn’t sure he had worded his terms well.

Before long he was being wrestled onto the table. Two guards pressed his shoulders back while another two held his legs. Laying on his already shackled hands hurt, and forced him to arch his spine oddly. It only served to enhance the panic sneaking up his throat when the wide band of metal snapped closed around his neck, pressing too hard, already obstructing his breathing.

“I have to admit, I’ve been sort of looking forward to this,” Steingard said with an easy smile. One of the guards handed off a case to him, which he set on the table next to Eskel. While he opened it up, the guards finished strapping Eskel down.

His heart was beating double time. He hated the position, hated how helpless he was. No leeway, no way to move at all. All he could do was lay there and stare helplessly at his oppressor.

Steingard trailed an appreciative hand down Eskel’s arms and legs. “Amazing. Witchers heal so incredibly fast. More so with your potions, I know, but still.” He shook his head, smiling. “I’ve spent so much time studying the trials that you go through, and I am quite curious how your reactions will differ from those witchers of the Cat School. They’re faster fighters, aren’t they? You, though. You’re built for strength. Versatility.” 

He pulled out a tube from his case. The way the case was positioned, Eskel couldn’t see inside of it. That in and of itself was sort of terrifying. It was supposed to be, he was sure, but just because he knew the logic behind the action didn’t make it any easier to bear.

“For a normal human I would just hold their nose closed, but I know Witchers can hold their breath a long time. I prefer this method.” Steingard let the tube unspool from his fingers. “Mostly because it’s both faster and markedly more unpleasant. After all, once I get this down your throat and into your stomach, I can pour anything I want in there and you can’t stop me.”

All of Eskel’s attention had been on Steingard and what he was holding, so he didn’t even notice the guard on the other side of him until it was too late. There were suddenly hands on his face, on his jaw, trying to pull them open. He locked his muscles, clenching his teeth and fighting them as hard as he could.

“Tsk,” Steingard said and motioned with his hand. In the next second there was pain exploding in Eskel’s belly as the guards he could see started whaling in on his stomach with their batons. He tried to curl up as instinct and training to protect his vitals kicked in. A hard gasp of air was pushed out of him after a vicious hit that made his stomach contents raise up his throat.

The thing they shoved in his mouth was metal and leather, and it pried open his jaw to a painfully wide extent. While he was still dazed, he felt straps tighten around his head, keeping the metal contraption in his mouth, and pulling his teeth and lips back obscenely. He couldn’t close his mouth. _He couldn’t close his mouth_. 

Now he was well and truly starting to panic. He thrashed against the bindings, but to no avail. Then the tube was going down his throat, scraping him raw as it went, forcing him to gag and shudder with it.

“Down the hatch!” Steingard said cheerfully, and poured something thick and red into the funneled end of the tube. “Just a little something to start you off with. We don’t want you healing too quickly, after all. And if it hurts a bit, well. That’s really the key. That’s what breaks witchers in the end. All of the pain.”

It felt cold in his stomach, spreading there after bypassing the normal route. He could feel his stomach rebelling, twitching, twisting against the unfamiliar potion. Nausea rose up and he gagged again, but he was helpless to stop it. Within seconds he could feel cold sweat stand out on his skin, the clammy feeling only making the sudden onset of dizziness worse. There was saliva gathering in his mouth, but he couldn't swallow because that tube was still lodged in his throat, hurting and alien, obstructing breathing and making him panic again. He was wheezing, he could hear it; his heart was pounding unsteadily as if it was losing its rhythm every few moments.

“Don’t worry. We’ll give you a chance to talk in a bit. First I should warm you up, though, don’t you think?” 

Eskel’s vision was starting to spot, and his blood alternately boiled and froze. Even Steingard’s words were hard to make out over the thundering beat of his heart. He’d completely forgotten about everything but the potion raging through him and the madman next to him.

It took him a moment to see it. A shining, silver light in front of his eyes. Steingard was holding up the tiniest, slimmest of blades. Holding it up so Eskel could see it. 

That was when he remembered some of what Geralt had said about Kiyan; the man had been flayed. Completely flayed. 

Absolute terror swept through him. He might have been moving. Maybe he was screaming. But all there was in the world was that knife and him.

The last thing he saw was that shining blade headed towards his face. 

\---

“ _Eskel._ ”

Pain. Fear. 

Black and red, swirling all around.

Burning. Terrible burning. In his veins, in his bones.

He was screaming. Had to be screaming. Couldn’t breathe.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

\--

It was the burning that woke him up. The terrible, acidic fire that hallowed him out. His chest was in cinders and his heart screamed at him, so fast he could hardly tell the beats apart. A familiar pleasure-pain sung along his body, and it felt like he needed to crawl out of his skin. 

There were hands on him.

As soon as his brain registered that fact he was scrambling away. There was only pain and fear. They were going to hurt him. There were knives, sharp and ready to cut.

He couldn’t--- 

Didn’t want---

Nothing made sense. It felt like his brain was in pieces. He was missing time. He’d been living the same day over and over. The same, terrible, miserable fucking day, always getting worse.

Cold stone was under his hands and against his side, but he was still burning. Aching with agony and terror and need. Tiny, wrecked little noises came out of him in between gasping breaths.

He was in a room. A dark, foul room that stank of his own blood and fear. Eskel knew he had to get away. But he was against a wall already. Nowhere to go. He curled in on himself and pulled at his hair, arms covering his head and face buried in his knees.

“Eskel.” The voice was low and rough. Familiar but maddening. Something about it was both frightening and alluring. He couldn’t tell if it was an enemy; everything was too mixed up, and poison ate into his veins, carving him up on the inside.

The room seemed to close in around him; dark energy scraped across his senses. It hurt, like pulling at a broken bone, but he needed it like he needed air and water.

Pressure closed in on him, trapping him. He twisted, casting Aard, and knocking the darkness back. A fraction of a second later, no more than a tenth of a heartbeat, and he cast Yrden around him on the floor. The violet energy of the trap spell glowed in his mind’s eye as he cowered on the ground.

_What is wrong with me?_

Everything hurt. Everything felt so good. Dominating both sensations was overwhelming _fear_. 

They were coming. He’d be hurt and broken. Over and over. Or maybe he already had been crushed beyond repair, and this was all that was left. He scrambled to make sense of what was going on.

“Eskel,” the voice said again, terrible and wonderful at the same time. “You are safe.”

The darkness slunk closer, covering his trap, blotting out its soothing light, and setting off that violet powered poison. Shadows ate it up, as if it never was, and Eskel was surrounded again. 

“ _Safe_.” The word clawed out of him, painful and sharp. With it came a bitter, despairing laugh. Nowhere was safe. He trembled in place, and tried to make himself smaller. 

“Yes.” The voice was calm, with a strange echo that rattled through Eskel’s mind. It felt familiar though, as familiar as it was terrifying. There were hands on the sides of his face, tight and so very hot.

The moment those hands touched him, every cell in his body lit up and sang. He didn’t know if he should lean in or lean away; the mix of pain and want and panic was too great. 

Hands on his face. There were hands on his face. 

He patted around on his mouth, searching for something. They’d shoved a metal thing in his mouth, pried open his teeth. It was just there. A tube down his throat. Freezing, awful liquid in his stomach. No way to breathe. 

Where were his injuries? Surely he had some. Did they disappear? _Did they even happen?_

“This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream…” he whispered to himself. He’d gone crazy. That was the only logical explanation.

“No,” the voice said fiercely, something terrible echoing in it. “No dreams. I made sure to knock you out deeply enough there were no dreams for you.”

Eskel curled his head down and whined softly, rocking a bit. Someone, the voice put him to sleep. It was so hard to think around how his gut burned and his blood raged. He couldn’t even tell if he was hot or cold, if he was hungry or thirsty, or if he was even really awake.

The voice. He knew that voice.

“Dracula.” That was it.

He’d been captured by a mage and had been tortured for weeks on end. 

“Yes.” The hands around his head squeezed and then he was being pushed down, covered by a big, hot body, and squished right into the hard floor. “I knocked you out before the knife even touched you. Steingard was furious at his guards for damaging you too much before he could get a chance to work you over.” The weight on him felt both terrifying and good, kept him still no matter how hard he struggled and squirmed. “It was no fun for him trying to torture you when you were out cold and no amount of cold water would bring you back.”

 _Well at least I’m cleaner,_ Eskel thought somewhat hysterically. That should be funny. He thought it probably was, but he couldn’t make the laugh come out. All he could do was shake.

His mind rebelled against the situation. This was impossible. His body hurt so damn bad, and the need to claw closer to that heavy, warm body above him was so all encompassing. 

“Why---” he muttered out loud, and shook his head like he was trying to jar something loose. _Why would Dracula be here? Did the mage finish his work? Kiyan was mad with pain. Geralt said..._ He couldn’t keep track of the thought. Everything hurt too much.

The idea that Dracula would have shown up in his dungeon prison was preposterous. It was far, far more reasonable to assume that whatever tortures Steingard had perfected included hallucinations, and he was already well on his way to becoming another mindless puppet. 

It was so fucking hard to _think_. Tears started to leak from his eyes, hot and painful. He stopped struggling to get away, though. All he wanted was to get closer to the heat above him. He leaned forward as much as he could, and tried to dig his hands into the warm, soft fabric that wrapped the body above him. 

The weight above him just pressed down. Eskel could feel the soft tickling of hair spreading over his face, familiar and bizarrely comforting, as a cheek rubbed into the top of his head, urging him to bury his face in the crook of the shoulder there. 

Eskel couldn’t smell the room around him anymore, not his own spilled blood or the filthy floors. There was only the scent of slow burning embers, power tickling his nose and filling his lungs. In some strange way, the scent blocked out the world better than anything else. He pressed his nose to that warm skin, inhaled, and let his hands find the hot skin above him; allowed himself to feel the smooth, unscarred skin of Dracula’s chest.

“Dracula.” He let himself believe it a little more. Dracula really was here, as impossible as it sounded. 

“Yes,” the vampire confirmed, the voice barely a rumble against Eskel’s skin.

That meant that Eskel really hadn’t been dreaming everything that had happened. He’d been starved, beaten half to death, repeatedly, endlessly, then healed and beaten, then healed and tortured. 

And it was going to happen again.

The realization struck him with wordless horror, and he keened softly. It only lasted for a couple of his own frantic heartbeats before he bit off the sound, not wanting to give voice to his misery. He couldn’t stop the shaking, though, the frantic shuddering that raced through him. As hard as he could, he pressed his forehead into Dracula’s neck, hiding under his jaw and the waterfall of dark hair that hid him from the room. 

“Talk to me,” he begged. “Please. Anything. Not about here.” Eskel was desperate for a distraction. Something to bring him back from the acid fire that still raged in his body and the precipice of despair that threatened his mind. 

“I’m a good rider,” Dracula said quietly, resettling his weight against Eskel. “I rode things like giant spiders, wargs, trolls, magic horses, and once even a magic eagle. Very useful. Do you know a warg can climb vertical walls? So helpful when searching through ancient ruins or needing to break through walls.”

Eskel let the words wash over him, and tried to just breathe. He focused on the deep hum of Dracula’s voice, and the hot skin on his hands and face. 

“I rode a griffon once,” Eskel said quietly, his lips brushing against Dracula’s neck as he spoke. Almost close enough to taste. “It didn’t care for the experience, but I got my bounty. Didn’t even break any bones.”

Words were good. He could do words. Hopefully. It was better to talk or listen than it was to think. 

His heart hurt, each terrible beat thudded against his ribs like a mallet. He’d felt some of this before, the awful pain-pleasure that he’d become familiar with from Dracula’s black power coursing through him. But there was something else too. His veins felt like they were on fire and his muscles hurt. Everything was swollen and tender, like some ghost of the beatings he’d already healed from. It reminded him of the awful burn that came from overdosing on his regular combat potions, and the stomach cramps and horrible stabbing pain that went with that.

“I liked the mounts for breaking through obstacles or climbing mostly, didn’t need them for actual travel.” Dracula said, one of his hands curling behind Eskel’s head and pushing his face deeper into his neck.

“Why? Did you have a sorceress carting you around everywhere?” Eskel took a grateful breath in, and tried to soak in as much of Dracula’s scent as he could.

Dracula huffed out a chuckle.

“After killing the first of the Lords of Shadow, I took a relic off of him. They were called Cyclone Boots and allowed me to move with speeds not even a mount could keep up for long.”

“Were you still human then?”

Dracula kept petting him, barely shifting above him. It felt so nice. One tiny spot of comfort when everything else had gone to shit. 

“I wasn’t a vampire,” he said. “But I wonder how human I was by that point. I barely ate, didn’t sleep at all, didn’t rest. I didn’t realize it even at that time, but I think my body was already changed by the power I absorbed. I think I must have lived by my power alone already. Strange, how I didn’t even notice.” Eskel could feel Dracula shrug against him. “Had other things on my mind then.”

Another spike of pain roared through Eskel’s body, and he flinched against it. Fuck, but he hurt everywhere. It wasn’t enough to drown out the awful desire he felt for Dracula’s touch; all it did was mix in and make things that much worse. It set him close to the line between simple dread and actual panic, and he struggled to stay still.

“What’s happening to me?” Eskel asked after another series of cramps swamped him. Why was he in so much pain still?

“I think it’s the potion Steingard gave you. My power healed what little damage you sustained, but it can’t purify your body. Whatever damage it’s doing to your system is being repaired at the same time, but I suspect you will have to wait until it works out of your body. For now, I will give you my power to act in place of your stunned healing factor.”

A cascade of information raced through Eskel’s mind as he puzzled through the possibilities. If he had his own potions and materials, he might have been able to make something to counteract the effects. Although he had to admit that in the state he was currently in, there was no way he’d be able to make anything new. He’d never be able to concentrate enough on the task.

“Once Geralt gets here---” Eskel winced as another cramp stabbed at him. “He’ll have something. Maybe. If he keeps it on hand. There are potions that might be able to counter this, assuming it’s still in effect. Most of the ones we witchers make don’t last...too long. A few days, maybe.”

“Or they can react badly with what’s already in your system and kill you.”

Eskel snorted in amusement. “You realize that we drink our own experiments, right? Even if we weren’t used to poisoning ourselves, we came up with one that specifically cleanses the body of negative effects from our own alchemy.”

Dracula hummed, still petting Eskel. It felt good, almost too good, as between the flare ups of misery from the poison in his system, his body was still cheerfully informing Eskel that yes, he was horny as hell and the body above him was the best thing that ever happened to him. He was uncomfortably aware of how his hard cock was pressing into Dracula’s hip. The vampire didn't make a big deal out of it, but Eskel had trouble ignoring the hot pulse of it, the way Dracula smelled just so damn good.

“Steingard has a fascination with witchers. I wouldn’t put it past him to have studied the potions he got off the witchers he captured before. I would even bet he made his own based on what he discovered from the witchers he tortured before.”

That made Eskel sigh. “I’m sure that’s what happened, actually. There are other alchemists out there. People do study the art. But witchers have put more effort into the craft than most, and our potions have immediate and tangible effects. Can’t tell you how many idiots I’ve run into who are just trying to make gold from lead.”

“Your resistant natures are also helping you deal with the toxicity of some of the potions. I got a drink out of Geralt once, when he was all maxed out on them and I have to admit, it was a real kick.”

Dracula hummed, his hand pausing in it’s slow stroking. “Kind of tasty.”

“Yeah, the Trials do that. Part of the enhancements specifically make us more resistant to potion toxicity. Normal humans can’t handle what we consume. Anything more than a single, simple potion would kill them.” Eskel thought about the Trial of Grasses. The pain and the bleeding. Then how powerful he felt afterwards. “Grasses was hard. That’s the first. It takes days for the potions to wear off. Then come Dreams and Mountain. One in ten live to see their eyes change and their strength grow, maybe as many as three in ten. The rest die screaming.”

Eskel realised his hands had sneaked under Dracula’s coat at some point, that he was holding him close. His palms spread out against the smooth, hot skin of Dracula’s back, feeling the tiny shifts of powerful muscles there. He almost tried pulling his hands away, but the thought of separating himself from that incredible body and the heat it offered was unbearable. 

Lust was thick in his throat. Eskel breathed in deeply, pulling in Dracula’s scent into his lungs. He wanted. Wanted so much it hurt. Dracula, in that moment, seemed like the most attractive person Eskel had ever seen in his life. His skin kept prickling up, tingling whenever a bit of Dracula’s skin was near. He had to clench his teeth tight to stop himself from licking at whatever he could reach. He wasn’t interested in Dracula, hell, he wasn’t interested in men in general. He knew that. He still felt that to be true, yet his body was at war with him now, struggling for something that came with the power Dracula fed into him.

Wait.

How did Dracula give him power? He only remembered waking up already like this.

“When did you give me power?” Eskel asked, casting his mind back. He cringed away from the memory of hard metal and leather in his mouth, forcing his jaws open, and the hard tube all but choking him. The thought of it being pushed in made him nearly gag.

“I called you,” Dracula said after a pause, sounding apprehensive. Like he didn’t want Eskel to know. “Pulled you up enough you were able to swallow what I gave you. You weren’t properly awake though.”

That made sense, and fit with the half-remembered whispering of his name. 

He shrugged a little. Getting woken partially to be force fed Dracula’s demonic power seemed like just business as usual for this nightmare of a time. After everything that had happened, it was difficult to get worked up over it. 

“There won’t be any more torture,” Dracula said unexpectedly, resuming his petting.

A massive shudder rippled through Eskel and he hid against Dracula’s neck. 

“If you were anyone else I would say not to promise what you can’t deliver on. But you are you.” It seemed like too much to hope for. Fear shivered through him, but so did relief. If Dracula said it wouldn’t happen, he had to believe it.

Eskel thought about the day’s events. Clearly Steingard had been spoiling to start his procedures. Turning his tortures on Dracula may or may not have been a ploy to rile Eskel up, but he certainly took the opportunity when presented.

“Alucard said that sunlight would be agony for him, maybe even kill him.” Eskel bit his lip, and rubbed his forehead into Dracula’s coat. It was so soft against his burning skin. He didn’t like that his friend had such a powerful weakness. At least Alucard could turn into a wolf during the day. “Geralt said you can’t die, but would the sun have…?”

There was a reluctant pause. “No. It is unpleasant, but it would have done me no harm.”

Bitter self-loathing filled Eskel up. Of fucking course. 

“I am a fucking moron,” he said viciously. His stomach churned and his body ached, a full body pulse that was completely un-fucking-necessary. He clenched his hands into fists and tried not to let the stinging in his eyes become something worse.

“You have given me a gift. One that will not easily be forgotten.” Dracula’s voice echoed with power, so deep that Eskel’s bones vibrated with it and his teeth ached. Dark energy radiated off of him in waves, creeping out into the space around them. It prickled along Eskel’s skin like trailing claws, causing him to clench up and shiver, both from fear and want. 

Dracula hummed for a moment, and Eskel shivered again. That was never a good sign.

“I will grant you a boon. Name your favor. If it is in my power, I will grant it.”

Oh, now that sounded like a terrible idea. Deals and favors from Dark Powers were a bad fucking plan. Even if Eskel hadn’t already known that, once Dracula and Alucard had shown up at Kaer Morhen, Triss and Yennefer had sat them all down and gave them a whole lecture on the subject. He was treading in far deeper waters with this than he ever wanted to.

But Dracula was hot and solid above him. He’d held Eskel so tenderly, and that touch felt so fucking perfect. Eskel didn’t think that Dracula would deliberately trick him just to harm him. Maybe fuck with him a bit. Probably more than a bit, actually.

Just thinking about it made his head hurt. 

He shook his head. “The only things I need, you’ve already offered me. My swords, my gear, my fee.”

“And yet there is still a debt.”

Eskel wanted to tear his hair out. “You don’t owe me, you don’t need to...It’s not about _favors_.” He didn’t do it just to weasel something out of Dracula. 

“Any preference as to the placement of the mark?” Dracula watched him like a cook watched a piece of prime meat, like something to be quartered and seasoned well.

“Mark?” Eskel squeaked. He was becoming more and more worried with every word out of Dracula’s mouth. “What kind of mark?”

“My mark,” Dracula said matter of factly in that echoing voice that brought shivers to his back.

Eskel flailed a bit. He tried to think, and utterly failed. Dracula’s mark? That…fuck. That could cause all kinds of problems. If it was noticeable, he might end up getting run out of even more towns. Depending on what it looked like anyways, but Eskel wouldn’t put it past Dracula to make it something ridiculously ostentatious. The last thing he needed was a face tattoo of Dracula’s choice. And he had very little illusion that he’d be able to decline said mark.

“Chest. Arm. Either,” he said finally. 

“Chest it is,” Dracula decided, pulling away and sitting up on his knees above Eskel. “You want to strip or should I just rip this open?” he asked, motioning at Eskel’s filthy armor.

Eskel covered his chest instinctively with his arm. There was not going to be any ripping of the few items of clothing he still had. He did his best to ignore the way Dracula’s words stroked the fire in his groin higher. No. He was not turned on by the way Dracula treated him. It was just the power and he was still not attracted to Dracula. He wasn’t.

“Please don’t. I’m not your lovers. I don’t need your claws.” Eskel tried to sound casual, but he knew his voice held more than a bit of worry. He struggled to untangle himself from the stiff material, but the position was awkward and his fingers didn’t want to cooperate. Dracula looming over him, wonderful and frightening, didn’t help either. His skin itched and burned, and Eskel knew he had to be blushing painfully bright.

It took a fair amount of squirming but Eskel got the heavy leather and linen shirt off. Each movement only served to remind him of Dracula’s weight on top of him, still pinning him down at the waist. He wanted to grind up into it and at the same time he would rather have bashed himself back into unconsciousness. 

It was strangely intimate, being laid bare in front of Dracula this way. It wasn’t anything Dracula hadn’t seen already but Eskel was even more self conscious than usual about the scars that littered his body. Especially when set in contrast to Dracula’s perfect, pale skin.

Dracula raised his arm, his fangs lengthening as he opened his mouth, and bit down on his own wrist. It wasn’t a small bite either, but a vicious one that tore his flesh open. Eskel swallowed at the brutality Dracula was willing to turn on himself; the ruthlessness was both terrifying and somehow sad, too. There was something honest in it though, in how Dracula was as ruthless to himself as he seemed towards anyone else.

Blood swelled up, trailing down his wrist and falling in thick drops onto Eskel’s pants.

“Call upon me,” Dracula said in a voice that went right through Eskel’s bones, rattling them like old leaves. Dracula pulled his hand down, palm slick with blood and pressed in to Eskels chest. “And I will answer.”

Cold fire burned out from the place where Dracula’s hand touched Eskel’s skin. He watched, scared and mesmerised in equal measure, as the blood dripping down from the ripped wound in Dracula’s wrist seeped into Eskel’s skin, burning all the way. It felt like it was soaking right into his chest, burrowing down into his heart. Almost as if Dracula’s hand didn’t stop at his skin, but just kept going. It reached in and took hold. He expected pain, but what he felt instead was a terrible sort of completeness. A bolt sliding home.

When Dracula lifted his hand, the wound was healed and most of the blood was gone from Dracula’s skin. The vampire watched him with dark eyes as he licked the remnants of his own blood off his hand and wrist. Watching those long wet strokes of Dracula’s slick tongue dried Eskel’s mouth.

“Don’t use it lightly,” Dracula warned, looking down at where the blood burned a triangular mark into Eskels skin. The mark was dark red and smoothly fitted to the skin. Inside the triangle there were other marks, small and strangely hard to read as Eskel tried to focus his eyes enough to make heads on tails of it. They looked like runes, strangely geometrical, but he didn’t know them. Something told him it wasn’t any language of his world.

“I can feel it,” he said hoarsely, still reeling, even if the awareness of the mark was fading with every passing minute. He ran his fingers over the shape of it, trailing along the outer edge. It felt like any other scar. Or a tattoo, maybe.

“If you are ever fighting something demonic and it looks sentient, you can always try showing the mark to them. They might recognize them, or not. Hard to say if it’ll work.”

“Wait,” Eskel said, looking from the mark to Dracula and back. “You didn't tell me that before! I can’t be flashing boob to every demon I fight!”

Dracula shrugged. “You should have made your choice faster.”

Eskel closed his eyes and groaned, dropping his head back onto the stone floor. He wanted to swear. So much. 

“I also made sure to miss your nipple.” Dracula pointed at Eskel’s nipple with his finger, as if it was the reason for all this madness.

“That’s…just…great.” Eskel pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck making friends. He was just going to kill every demon he ever came across.

Another painful shudder shot through him, and he twisted in place. Everything still hurt; he was still burning up inside. But now there was markedly less contact going on between him and Dracula, and the dark power trapped inside of him was screaming its displeasure.

Eskel reached out and touched those hard thighs still pressed against his sides. He curled his fingers against the strong muscles and tugged, hoping for more contact, but not yet willing to beg out loud.

“Ah,” Dracula murmured. “It seems I am failing in my duties.”

Before Eskel even had time enough to blush, Dracula was lowering himself down again, pressing on him from chest to hip. It felt glorious. So much better now that Eskel was shirtless and their bare chests could touch. He bit back the little sound that threatened to spill out of him, gritting his teeth so hard they made grinding sound.

“Why couldn’t you be like any other noble and have me go kill shit for you, instead taking part in this charade.” Eskel thought wistfully of his swords and silver daggers, and pressed his cheek into Dracula’s shoulder.

So much money lost. And the rabble that got his swords didn’t even know how to use them properly, either. It just added a whole new layer of misery. He wanted his swords back. And his good armor. Dammit. He would make sure to bleed Dracula’s pockets dry for new gear.

“I told Steingard all about the mean-spirited and violent Alucard. I’m sure he already sent most of his people after him. It won't be long ‘til Geralt gets here.”

Eskel gaped. “Mean-spirited. Violent.” He couldn’t even picture it.

“Yes,” Dracula confirmed, a smirk on his face. “I told Steingard how temperamental he is, how terrifying. How one needed to be careful around him. Such a beast.”

A snicker escaped Eskel, which quickly turned into gasping laughter. The look on Alucard’s face would be priceless. Absolutely priceless. “Oh my Gods, you’re wicked. For fuck’s sake, I hope you fuck him into utter happiness after this, because he is gonna be so annoyed. Just please, please wait for me to be gone.”

Another cramp stabbed him in the gut, but he just wheezed around it. 

Dracula made a grumpy sound and pulled Eskel closer. It made it hard to breathe but sent spikes of pure pleasure through Eskel’s body at the same time.

“I dislike the poison,” Dracula stated finally, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

“Agreed,” Eskel said dryly. A thought occurred to him, and it worried at his mind for a moment before he got the nerve to ask, “...Can you even drink from me?”

Dracula hummed thoughtfully. The vibrations of the sound traveled from his chest right to Eskel’s and woke up a riot of shivers.

“I can,” he said eventually. “But I won’t.”

The finality of that statement made Eskel nearly cry. He did clutch tighter for a moment, digging into Dracula’s skin with his fingers. It took a massive amount of will not to bite down on the neck next to his teeth. Not to lick and suck, not to rub his achingly hard cock against the hip pressed to him. He wanted so much he could barely think around it.

All of that dark power pulsing under his skin was just as torturous in its own way as the poison from Steingard’s potion. In some ways, it was harder to deal with, too. Pain he was used to. But this overwhelming need to touch and fuck was both unwanted and incredibly embarrassing. 

“Why the hell not?” he asked desperately, his voice rough with need and unhappiness.

“My power is acting as a healing factor until the poison is gone. So not only I am not removing it, I think you will need more regularly, since your body is incredibly inefficient at absorbing it.”

Now a few more tears did leak down Eskel’s cheeks, and he shuddered again.

Just then Dracula made the most thoughtful sound that turned Eskel’s blood to ice.

“Oh no. What ever you are thinking. Just. No.” Eskel bit down hard and scrunched his eyes closed. He took a breath, and tried not to think about how he was going to be suffering for the next who-knew-how-long. “I am gonna bleed your coin purse dry. And then hit as many brothels as I can work my way through. _Fuck_.”

“Hmm.” Dracula still sounded thoughtful.

“No.”

Dracula pulled up enough to look Eskel in the face, seeming to evaluate his looks.

“You look pitiful enough, I could probably talk Alucard into learning how to share power. I bet he will want to help. Pet you a little. If you are still in pain he will do what he can to ease it. Yes.” Dracula nodded, dropping down again and squashing Eskel to the ground in the process. 

Eskel wanted to bristle at being called pitiful-looking, but the sad reality was that was probably true. Besides, just the thought of Alucard petting him and holding him sent a shiver of pure want through him. It wasn’t about sex between them, it never had been. But Eskel had found more peace in Alucard’s arms than he had with anyone else. Just having someone to be close to without any other expectation was an unexpected gift. Add in how sweet and cuddly Alucard was, and it made the experience something truly special.

“He terrifies me less than you do,” Eskel admitted without any shame. Dracula was objectively frightening, and Eskel didn’t believe in beating around the bush with things like that. Anyone who wasn’t at least a little terrified by Dracula was either an idiot or already fucking him. “Although…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m glad that you are so much _more_ than this place. It’s easier not to think about…”

How could he describe how grateful he was to have his senses overwhelmed by all that Dracula was. Better that, than to sit in the smell of his own blood, refreshed day after day, week by week. To sit in filth and terror. 

“Alucard will be here soon,” Dracula soothed. “And it won’t take long for Geralt to arrive after him.”

Eskel nodded, and shivered through another painful full-body cramp. 

\--

The sun has already set hours ago when Geralt left the last of the shops. He was tired, far more tired than he would have been from running through the forest. He’d spent hours looking for every shady merchant he could find, for any contact he ever had in this place. During the daylight hours he visited all the reputable merchants, asking about contracts recently taken up by a witcher. 

While people tended to notice witchers coming into town, they were usually very bad at actually distinguishing one from the other. As luck would have it, there were six contracts in the last two months taken up by witchers but the descriptions he got were wildly different and unhelpful. It all kept boiling down to ‘he was scarred’. Which wasn’t helpful at all. What witcher wasn’t scarred?

At least he knew one was here, working on various bounties. Up until a couple weeks ago, anyways. What was curious was that there were still plenty of contracts left to take. Several freestanding bounties, too. Still work left for a witcher to do.

After the sun had set, Geralt went out in search of the more shady businesses. Brothels were his first stop, looking to see if Eskel came there to spend some coin. Unlike the merchants, the working girls were better at describing their customers. Geralt’s reputation as a generous and polite patron served him well, gaining him more good will than the Madame would usually offer people asking questions. Not that he didn’t have to pay through his nose to get some real info out of her. Once he did, he learned that there were actually three witchers who had come through the town in as many months. Unlike the merchants, the Madame knew which schools they were from. Snake, Cat, and Wolf. Eskel apparently did not earn much of her goodwill. He didn’t stop to buy time from her girls, unlike the other two.

Geralt also learned that there had been a power shift of sorts in the city in the last half a year. The various little gangs that ruled the many districts had been united under two main powers. Tam Blackwell in the west, holding territory from the Bits all the way up to the main town square, and Erris, a woman hailing from the Northern islands, known apparently for cutting off penises of men who displeased her in anyway. Between the two, they controlled the whole of the less-than-legal deals in the city and around. 

The second biggest brothel in the city was less friendly towards him, and the Madame met him with two burly guards in tow. It took a headache inducing mix of compliments, promises, and outright intimidation for the Madame to take his coin and finally share her knowledge. 

From her, he got that the City Guard was on the take and had been for years, ever since the old Duke passed away and his son took over. The Madame said the old officials did not take well to the progressive ideals the young Duke preferred and shifted their loyalties from him to whoever paid more. The Captain of the Guard was especially bitter, an old man set in his ways, and he’d been known to provide many favors for adequate pay. The other interesting bit was that somebody was recruiting men around four weeks ago. It was especially interesting that the rumour said that they needed up to forty men, experienced fighters all, and that wasn’t cheap or a common occurrence.

There was just no escaping it, Geralt knew he needed to see the bosses. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing considering he didn't have enough of a pull in the city to have somebody vouch for him. He would need to invite himself for an audience.

After leaving the brothel, he downed a Swallow to combat the exhaustion of days of constant travel, and went to find a thief. A few Axii uses and five bewildered but cooperative criminals later, he got the address for Tam Blackwell.

The look he got at the door was fairly priceless. Who expects a witcher to show up uninvited? Fortunately for Geralt, it was a curious enough event that he actually did get ushered in. 

He waited in a plush-looking backroom for a while. The building was a warehouse near the southern island docks. Honestly, Geralt had given Tam a fifty-fifty chance of setting up in a place just like this. The other popular option was a tavern. Plenty of people coming and going, although if Tam Blackwell had the City Guard paid up right, he probably wouldn’t care. 

It took about a half hour for Tam to show up, and when he did it was with a small group of bully boys in tow. Geralt suppressed a grin at the inevitable sizing up. It happened every time he dealt with thugs like this. 

This group actually looked competent, in that they didn’t immediately assume that they could best him. They looked at him warily, and kept standing behind Tam even after the boss sat down.

“Witcher,” Tam said. The man was heavyset, but not fat. More like he’d been a powerhouse fighter about fifteen years ago and some, but not all, of that muscle had softened a bit. His face was splotchy red and he had boxer’s ears. His clothes were good quality, but they were workman's clothes, leathers and heavy canvas. Clean, but they’d seen use. Here was a man who was close to his grunts. “Imagine my surprise when Kell tells me there’s a monster hunter waiting for me at my office.”

The fact that he said ‘monster hunter’ instead of ‘freak’ was nice. That meant he probably had good dealings with witchers in the past. Geralt prayed that bit of good luck would hold through the rest of the conversation.

“I appreciate you taking the time to see me,” Geralt replied easily. “I know you’re a busy man.”

“I am. So let’s not waste any more of our time here. What do you want?” Tam leaned back in his chair and folded his hands onto his stomach. It was obvious to Geralt that he was projecting an ease he didn’t feel. That was expected. Witchers had dangerous reputations, and Geralt’s was more dangerous than most. 

“I need information, and I need it quickly.” Geralt kept his tone and body language loose. He was ready to fight, he was always ready to fight when he was out on a hunt like this. But he was only here to talk. Getting into something here would waste more time than he wanted.

Tam blinked at him. “Do I look like a chatterbox to you?”

“You look like a businessman.” Geralt pulled out a purse of coin and gently set it on the table. Damn but this little adventure was proving to be costly. “And I’m always happy to pay for a job well done.”

From the tilt of his head, Tam was intrigued. After a moment of consideration, he leaned forward and grabbed the purse. He weighed it in his hand and frowned, never taking his eyes of Geralt. 

Eventually he passed it back to one of his guards, who took a look inside. 

“I thought witchers hunted beasts and boggles.” Tam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, we do. But sometimes we’re forced to branch out.” And that was the damn truth. Too often, Geralt had found that humans were more vicious and cruel than the creatures he hunted. Some people were just spoiling to get killed. He grinned at Tam, though it was more like a baring of teeth. When he walked in the building, they didn’t even try to take his weapons off of him. He wouldn’t have let them either way, but he knew what he looked like. Armored, scarred, and made of solid muscle and blades. It was unlikely that Tam would be intimidated. One didn’t get to the top of a crime ladder by being easily frightened. But Tam would know the kind of person he was dealing with when he talked to Geralt. 

And he was sure to know what Geralt’s steel sword was for.

Tam ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. Then he nodded. “Tell me.”

“A few weeks ago someone hired a large group of men for a job. Had to be at least forty. Maybe more. Heavily armored, well prepared fighters. Probably for only a days worth of work.”

“That’s a lot of men,” Tam said in a neutral tone.

“It is. Not so many once they were done, I’m guessing.” A flicker of amusement crossed Tam’s face. “I need to know who hired them, and where I can find that person.”

“That’s it?”

Here would be the trickier part. The bit that Tam might not have any idea about. Geralt still had to ask though.

“No,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “I have other questions, but I don’t know that you’d be of any help.” Might as well be blunt. 

That made Tam narrow his eyes and tap one finger on this knuckles. Geralt hoped he’d judged things right. A little irreverence might spur Tam into being more forthcoming. Too much and it would just piss him off. 

“What are you looking for, witcher? Exactly. I can’t ask around unless I know what you need.” 

Geralt took a breath, and hoped this wouldn’t end in tears or bloodshed. “A fellow witcher went missing. I’m investigating. In addition, someone else I know has been taken. A vampire. They’d have to be cautious with how they handled him. I’d like to find out who’s involved and pay them a visit.”

It was possible that Tam himself was the one responsible, but Geralt thought it would be unlikely. As far as he knew, Tam had no beef with Geralt. Not only that, but the man was deeply involved in a heated turf war. That wouldn’t leave a lot of time for fucking around with witchers. If Eskel had, by some extreme misfortune, managed to stumble into some of Tam’s business, the crime boss would have just had him killed, and likely skipped the whole kidnapping nonsense. 

So Geralt played the odds and hoped that Tam would know enough to help him along, but not so much that he was involved. 

“Interesting. You looking to save that vampire? Or kill it yourself?” Tam leaned forward a bit, one eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Does it matter?” Geralt asked evenly.

That made Tam laugh. “No. No it doesn’t.” He cracked his knuckles. It was an absent gesture, one that seemed like a product of years of habit rather than a random intimidation tactic. “Tell you what, witcher. There’s a thing I need killing. A cockatrice guarding a building off on the north side docks. You go do me this favor, and I’ll ask around. Get you the information you need.”

It took everything Geralt had to not sigh. 

Of fucking course. Nothing was ever simple. 

He thought it over for a moment, letting Tam think that he was reluctant to agree. Geralt would do it. No question. Cockatrices were easy prey for him, and Geralt needed the news too badly. But he didn’t want to seem so eager to the crime boss. 

“I’ll give you back your coin purse too, if you get it killed tonight,” Tam offered with a toothy smile. 

“Done,” Geralt said. “Tell me where.”

So off Geralt went, and in under an hour he made it to the address given. The building was by the water, and made of mortar and stone rather than the cheaper wood in other parts of the country. Two stories with what smelled like a deep cellar underneath it. He wasted precious time finding entrance into the building without letting himself be seen, and then crawling through the storage until he found the nest. The creature was sickly, the dry building a bad place for something that loved wetness of swamps and sewers. One grapeshot bomb and a few silvered crossbow bolts and the thing was ready for slaughter. It took longer to take the trophies than it took to kill it.

Then he had the amazing pleasure of making his way through the city back to Tam, without any of Erris’ men figuring out what was happening. By the time he was back in the crime boss’ office, the sun was starting to raise again.

“Oooo would you look at that, boys,” Tam said with a pleased smile. He was resting easily in his office chair, and this time his guards were sitting in various spots around the room as well. Geralt’s coin purse was sitting on the desk.

“One cockatrice head, cut to order,” Gerat said, holding up the trophy. 

Tam hummed happily, and waved over one of his men to take the severed head from Geralt. “You witchers do damn good work. I wish I could convince one of you to stick around, permanent like.”

“I bet you do,” Geralt said with dry amusement, and took a seat. It had been days since he slept properly, only taking the briefest amount of time possible to meditate. Between that and his potions, he was still in top fighting form, but that didn’t take care of how tired he felt. “Tell me what you found out.”

Apparently Tam was too pleased by the successful hunt to be offended. Or maybe he was just used to his thugs talking smart. Either way, he tossed the coin purse back to Geralt and smirked.

“Little over two weeks ago, a man hired a large group of armed fighters. Several of them were with the guard. They freelance on their off time. So, well trained and used to working together. After a little digging, turns out that was the group going after your witcher friend. He killed about half of them, and the ones left split the dead mercs' fee.” Tam shook his head, clearly annoyed by the sudden decrease of skilled labor. “Man who hired them is an independent by the name of Ireneus van Steingard.” 

The moment Geralt heard that name, he went cold. Steingard. The only place he’d ever heard it was on notes from the lab where Geralt had run into Mad Kiyan. The mage responsible for that suffering and insanity had Eskel. 

“Mage, apparently,” Tam continued on, though from the flicker of his eyes he saw Geralt’s reaction. “Now there’s a man who’s into some dubious things. Drugs, sure, but on a small scale. He keeps a fair sized group of club men on hand, too. There are disappearances, but he’s got enough money to grease some very important hands. The man himself is creepy as shit. Polite, but creepy.”

“Where can I find him?”

“He has a few locations, the repurposed timber mill at the southern edges of the city, in the Bits. The yellow townhouse on the town square, and the new building, not yet finished near the west docks.”

Three different places to look through, and if he was seen at any one of them and it wasn’t the right spot, Steingard would know. The information about his wealth and influence wasn’t good news either. It meant that he’d have the city guard on his side, if things got too public.

“And the vampire?” Geralt asked after a moment of thinking. 

“Now that was a bit more difficult. As far as I could tell, none of the local freelance talent was hired for the job. _But_ , some of my boys saw that some of his knuckle draggers were gone for a few days, and then came back flush with cash. Somewhere along the way they found some damn expensive gold jewelry.”

The rings. Dracula always wore several of them. 

Geralt still couldn’t believe that Dracula let anyone take those rings off of him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Is there anything else?”

Tam shook his head. “Just that Steingard commissioned a lot of silver manacles and silver surgical tools recently. Paid a pretty hefty sum for them too.”

Holy fuck, the look on Dracula’s face when presented with silver manacles. Geralt covered his face with his hand and swore. 

“Thanks,” he said finally.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Tam smiled, probably thinking about that newly unguarded warehouse that his thugs were no doubt raiding. “You ever want to come back for a few more jobs, I know I can find something for you to do.”

Geralt said his goodbyes and headed back to their rented room. He couldn’t afford to sleep. Didn’t have the time. But either way he was looking forward to wrapping up in Alucard’s cool body and resting for an hour or two.

It was full morning by the time he made it to the room. But when he got there, it was empty. 

Nothing was disturbed. Geralt’s travel bag was still propped on the chest by the wall. The flasks of mead were on the table, as was the bread and cheese he acquired for a meal he never got a chance to eat.

Everything seemed in place, except Alucard. Geralt looked out at the sun steadily climbing the horizon and back around the empty room.

Fuck. 

The only difference was the small piece of paper lying innocently on the bed. When he picked it up and opened it, he saw that it was another note, written in a similar handwriting as the first one.

“Go to the back of the Golden Stallion Inn, wait in the alley near the broken crates for somebody to collect you. You will know who it is.”

Geralt crushed the note and went right back out the room. 

It just wasn't his day, it seemed. Or the last three days for that matter. With an irritated sigh, he traipsed his way to the dingy alley and leaned against the brick wall, trying his best to look like a victim, not a murder waiting to happen.

\--


	4. Chapter 4

“Time to get dressed again,” Dracula said quietly, and carefully began helping Eskel put on his filthy leather top.

Eskel squinted towards the little window, but it was still dark outside. 

“Wha?” he grumbled. They couldn’t have been resting there on the floor for long. Not nearly as long as Eskel would have preferred. Between the poison potion and the effects of Dracula’s power still thrumming inside of him, he felt awful. His joints felt large and stiff; they couldn’t possibly have been swollen after Dracula’s healing, but they felt like they were. His eyes were dry and sticky, and his blood burned in his veins. A horrifying ache filled his torso, like he’d been carved out, and every so often he was wracked with bone-melting cramps. On top of all that was the sensation of Dracula’s power still aching to get out, to return to its creator and master. Eskel burned to be touched, to be held. His cock was achingly hard and he was half blind with pain and lust. 

So when Dracula pulled away to help him get dressed, Eskel couldn’t stop the tiny moan of despair that tore out of him.

“They are coming with Alucard.” Dracula’s glee was a tangible thing. 

“Yay,” Eskel said dully. As loath as he was to have yet another person see him so wrecked, he was pitifully relieved that this insanity would be ending soon. Because with Alucard here, Geralt would soon be on his way.

Despite Eskel’s shaking arms, it only took a moment to get dressed again. 

The shackles were another story.

Eskel knew it was coming. Knew what he had to do. Without a word, Eskel rolled sideways and put his arms behind his back. The moment he felt that cold metal on his wrists, he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was hard, so very hard, to sit still, knowing that he was being left to the guard’s mercy again. 

It only took a moment before Dracula had the cuffs back on him, both on his arms and legs. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, and his already racing heart picked up again and stormed in his ears. He closed his eyes and pressed his head into the cold stone floor, trying to push everything out of his mind.

“They won’t be here long,” Dracula said softly, and ran his hand through Eskel’s hair one more time. It felt so good, so hot and tingling and wonderful, that Eskel leaned into it.

Then there was nothing but the cold room and the fire in his veins. 

Eskel curled up a bit, as much as he could anyways. Everything was awful and everything hurt and burned. He closed his eyes and let his hair fall over his face. Then he just listened to his own shuddering breath. His heartbeat came too erratically for that to be a good measure. Every several beats, it would stutter and thud uncomfortably. 

When the door opened, he flinched hard, which only made everything hurt more. He kept the gasp of pain behind his teeth, though, and snuck a look through the curtain of his filthy hair. 

More than half a dozen guards filed in, each with their weapons drawn. Not just clubs, either. Swords and crossbows. They kept a wary eye on the door as Alucard followed them in. Eskel could hear more guards behind them in the hall, too.

He looked as he usually did, with his long blue coat, bare chest, and armored greaves and gauntlets. The only thing missing was his sword; it was nowhere to be seen. Given how proud he was of the blade, Eskel figured he probably stashed it somewhere rather than give it up to these idiots. Silver cuffs wrapped around his armored wrists, attached to a chain that one of the guards was leading. 

When Alucard stepped in the room, his back stiffened, and his eyes darted around. Eskel knew the exact moment Alucard saw where he lay on the floor, off in the corner, because his lips pulled back in a very slight snarl. 

“Come on! Keep moving, you filthy monster.” 

That had Eskel rolling his eyes. Alucard was cleaner than all of them, guards included. For fuck's sake, they'd probably sold all of Dracula’s rings. Maybe they could have used a coin or two to buy a trip to a bathhouse. 

The guard with the chain tugged at it, and hard, too, from the looks of how much effort he put into it. He stood there straining against the grip on the chain, but Alucard didn’t move so much as a finger's length. He simply turned his golden eyes onto the man with the chain and stared at him, completely unimpressed. After three full seconds, Alucard moved, walking over to stand next to Dracula along the wall. 

It was telling that none of the guards got close enough to adjust the shackles. They just attached the chain to the ring on the wall, and then fled like they were being chased by bees. 

There was a pregnant silence after the door slammed behind them, where Dracula stared at Alucard and Alucard stared at Eskel. 

Whatever was going on with that, Eskel found he couldn’t give a shit, and he just tried to shove his forehead into the floor. Maybe the cold stone would help. It hadn’t so far, but he could hope. The chains on him clinked softly as he shuddered through another wave of pain. 

As soon as the last echoes of the guards footsteps faded Alucard ghosted from his shackles and to Eskel. Before the last of the blue light of his spirit wolf form faded, he had already settled in to kneel right beside where Eskel lay. Cool hands settled on Eskel’s face, making him lean into the sensation.

“Don’t fret,” Dracula huffed from his spot against the wall. “He’s fine.” Then he hesitated. “Mostly.” 

Alucard’s hands glowed, ever so slightly with that strange blue light of his magic.

“You gave him your power.” Alucard sounded…shocked? Like it was the most shocking thing he’d seen up until now.

Another bolt of pain-pleasure washed through Eskel, and he curled up tighter. He wished he could burrow into Alucard’s coat and be wrapped up in a tight hug. The best he could do was lean in a little more towards the hands on his face. 

“He took it better before.” Dracula sounded grumpy now. “Steingard gave him something to stop his healing process and he’s been like that ever since.”

“Word to the wise,” Eskel croaked out. “Never accept drinks from strangers.”

Alucard’s lips twitched upwards slightly, but he didn’t smile.

“That’s why he’s hurting,” Alucard said. “Your power is too corrosive for most. Whatever happened in his body, it shifted the balance he had before. I think at this point it would be best to remove your power from him.”

Eskel snorted, and then winced. “There was also the torture. Dracula did what he could to keep me from choking on my own blood. So there’s that.” 

“If I remove my power, the poison may kill him still. Now he’s in pain, but he’s alive too,” Dracula said matter of factly.

A low, painful, and completely unhinged laugh escaped from Eskel’s mouth, and tapered off into a groan. “Steingard won’t kill me. He has uses for my body.” His heart beat triple time for a moment, and then went frighteningly silent for two long breaths. Then it started up once more. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on drawing air in and out of his lungs at an even pace. “But I wouldn’t object to a change. Fuck, it feels like it’s eating me.” 

“Your power is too potent.” Alucard sighed. His hands were infinitely gentle on Eskel’s face as he pushed filthy hair away from his equally filthy face. “It needs to be filtered. Even Geralt wouldn’t be able to stand so much of it for a long time.”

“You are good at absorbing and subverting my power.” Dracula’s voice was closer now, and when Eskel looked up he saw the dark lord standing over them both, his hand reaching for the top of Alucard’s head. “You could filter it for him.”

“Is it gonna want to get back to Alucard, like yours does to you?” Eskel asked. Not that he’d be able to say no to the healing either way, but it would be nice to know if he was going to want to rut against Alucard’s leg rather than Dracula’s. 

Fuck this whole week.

Dracula looked down at Eskel fondly. Eskel did not like the way the corners of his eyes curled. 

“I have no idea.”

Eskel closed his eyes and sighed. “Of course.”

He couldn’t help but think this was all some convoluted way to convince Alucard to feed from additional people. Eskel just happened to be the most convenient tool for the job. While he probably wouldn’t mind so much if Alucard did need to feed from him, he was more than a bit irritated at his situation. 

Ah, well. 

“I know you don’t want to, and probably won’t. But if you _do_ feel the need to drink from me, I’d be alright with that.” Eskel looked up at Alucard and tried to put as much calm acceptance into his face as he could. He knew Alucard would never take what wasn’t offered freely. Hell, Alucard would probably never take from any kind of human anyways. But the last thing Eskel wanted was for him to harbor some kind of weird guilt over it. “Not trying to push. Just letting you know.”

He briefly wished that someone was touching him more. Alucard’s hands were still on his face, but the rest of his body cried out for sensation. Eskel couldn’t ask it of them, though. Dracula, maybe, since he’d already been doing it for days. But Alucard, definitely not. Eskel was painfully aware of how dirty he was, not to mention how his cock was still hard as could be. He didn’t want to sully his friend. 

Better to just bear the pain.

“I don’t know how to share power.” Alucard sounded so guilty about it, like he was personally failing Eskel in this moment. He looked up to Dracula with a pained expression.

“You could learn.” Dracula’s voice was soft and sweet. He lowered himself to his knees on the other side of Eskel’s head.

Eskel wanted to roll his eyes very, very badly. But Dracula clearly had a plan with this. He very much wanted to convince his son to figure this skill out. Since Eskel would be the actual beneficiary of said skill, it was hard to get huffy about it. He wondered if Alucard heard how seductive Dracula was trying to be. 

Fire flared up inside of him for a moment and he flinched, causing him to strain against the cuffs still on his arms and legs. For a moment he’d almost forgotten he was restrained, the pain and lust were just that overwhelming. Once the guards were gone and with Alucard and Dracula nearby, Eskel didn’t feel quite so terrified. 

He still didn’t like it, though. 

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to uncuff me?” he choked out, voice rough and painful.

Dracula’s eyes darted down, still soft and very fond. “I wouldn't want you to wiggle free,” he said with a smirk. “You are good where you are.”

“Oh Gods, why are you such an asshole,” Eskel muttered, and tried to rub his forehead on the stone floor. He felt so damn feverish, but freezing at the same time.

“Mostly because I can,” Dracula answered, but his eyes were only for Alucard and his voice softened even more. 

That made Eskel snort in laughter. Because, yeah, that sounded exactly like Dracula. 

Dracula reached his other hand for Alucard, getting a good fistful of that lovely white hair. The harshness of his grip was in direct opposition of the softness of his gaze.

“You gave him your power,” Alucard repeated, his voice matching Dracula’s as he stared into the dark lord’s eyes.

“Yes,” Dracula confirmed.

Alucard smiled, slow and gentle. In that moment Eskel was absolutely sure he’d forgotten all about Eskel’s existence even though they were still touching.

“Thank you,” Alucard whispered, “for taking care of him.”

Then they were leaning towards each other. Eskel didn’t know if it was something they did in unison or if Dracula was pulling Alucard towards him, but it didn’t matter much. Not when Alucard melted into the kiss so sweetly, opening up to Dracula as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

They were close enough Eskel could see the way Dracula’s tongue pushed in and how Alucard’s jaw worked as he accepted and returned the kiss. 

Normally, Eskel might have said something. Perhaps found a way to not be so close to this intimacy. But he knew that this might very well be part of Dracula’s fantasy kidnapping, and hell, Alucard looked so happy and sweet. He wouldn’t take that away from them. 

Besides, he was getting paid to play along. So Eskel just gritted his teeth and suffered in silence.

He could see the moment Alucard jerked, flinching back, and how Dracula’s hands tightened in his hair, holding him still by force. Dracula pressed closer, slotting his lips tighter, harder against Alucard’s. A noise then escaped Alucard’s mouth, harsh and deep. It was enough to make Eskel jerk forward on instinct. He could tell Alucard was in pain and that whatever was happening had changed between one second and the next.

“Hey!” he croaked, but Alucard’s hand splayed on his chest suddenly and pushed him back down as easy as if he was a kitten. Eskel huffed as all the air left his lungs in a rush. His traitorous, confused body was delighted by the contact, though, and his cock jumped in the tight confines of his pants.

Alucard whimpered softly. The hand against Eskel’s chest slowly fisted tight, grabbing on to the cloth there. Dracula was pouring power into Alucard, Eskel realized. A hell of a lot of it, too, if Alucard’s reaction was anything to go by.

He had to believe that Dracula wouldn’t hurt Alucard, not really. The way they cared about each other was too obvious, too deeply a part of who they were. So Eskel tried to keep his mouth shut, and just watched with wide, worried eyes. 

It took him a moment to realize that once Alucard was flush with Dracula’s power, he’d probably be horny as fuck too. That was what made Eskel cringe and want to bang his head against the floor. As if this whole thing wasn’t awkward enough.

If they started fucking next to him, he was gonna scream for the guards. 

He _hoped_. 

When Dracula finally released Alucard from his kiss, the younger vampire moaned and slumped right down the rest of the way onto the floor. One hand was still tightly clenched in Eskel’s shirt, but his upper body almost curled around Eskel’s head. The air tasted of Dracula’s power, of fire and blood and darkness. But under that Eskel could smell Alucard’s unique scent too, frost and fur and blood. 

And lust. Fuck, he could smell the change, could practically taste how hot Alucard was for Dracula’s touch. That was not helping his own situation. Not one bit. 

_All the brothels_ , Eskel thought to himself. _I’m gonna go to all of them. For a week solid._

“Do you see now?” Dracula asked, petting the side of Alucard’s face and leaning over them both. “Should I show you again?”

Alucard groaned and released his hand from Eskel’s shirt to catch Dracula’s wrist and still it.

“Too much.” He groaned and curled tighter around Eskel’s head. “Could have gone easier on me,” he complained. 

Eskel squirmed. he couldn't stop listening to Alucard’s uneven breath above him. His body tingled where Dracula’s knees were pressed against his side, so close yet not giving him any relief.

“You like it when I don’t,” Dracula murmured, his hand limp in Alucard’s grip. 

Again, Eskel was struck with the contrast between Dracula’s words and actions. His words were vaguely threatening, definitely not nice or gentle, yet he let Alucard move him as if he was nothing more than a ragdoll.

“Do you want to be a guinea pig for me, Eskel?” Alucard asked on an exhale, his voice sounding rough and breathy, causing Eskel to squirm again.

Just the idea of it was ridiculously arousing. Which was really frustrating because Eskel did not want to fuck Alucard. Despite how his dick was trying to run away with his brain, Eskel managed to scrape together enough sense to say, “Sure, I’m game. Is that gonna fuck with what Dracula already put in me?”

“Ahh.” There was another long exhale and Eskel had to close his eyes and count to ten backwards. By this point he welcomed the horrifying burning in his veins. At least it was distracting. “You should take what’s yours before I try it,” Alucard said softly, lifting his hand to pet Eskel’s head clumsily.

That petting felt so fucking good. Gods, Eskel’s skin was crawling with the need to be touched. 

“Should I, now?” Dracula said. Eskel could hear the smirk in his voice. He didn’t think he could stand it if he saw it, so he kept his eyes closed.

“I refused Geralt today,” Alucard continued quietly from above Eskel, still petting his head. “I thought you would like to see him _wanting_.” He still sounded dazed and breathy. The scent of lust wafted off of him, filling up Eskel’s nose with every breath.

 _Oh no. Oversharing time._

Eskel bit back a groan. He didn’t want to hear about this stuff in general. But right now, with his body dying to be touched, hearing the details of their frankly unbelievable sex life was the last thing Eskel needed.

“You did?” Dracula’s voice was light, amazed, and so very pleased. The sound of it just curled around all of Eskel’s nerve endings and stroked, lighting him up.

“Yes,” Alucard said, still petting Eskel. “He got us a room at the inn, asked if I wanted him pleased to serve or ready to fight for the pleasure.” Alucard sounded dreamy and also extremely pleased. Eskel whined in the back of his throat, and tried not to think about how close he was to Alucard, and how little they were actually touching. 

“You do realize I am still here? That I can hear you, yes?” Eskel asked desperately. “Weren’t we about to do something here?”

Dracula just laughed, and carefully put a hand on Eskel’s neck. “So we were.”

Then he pulled Eskel’s head to the side, manhandling him as if it was his right, as if it was the most natural thing in the word. The thing was, Eskel wasn't used to being handled like that. To have somebody touching him with such confidence. He didn't even mind the chains any more. The manacles meant he couldn't reach for either of the vampires, no matter how desperately he wanted to touch skin, any skin. He couldn’t pull anyone down and rut against them. All he could do was just strain helplessly in Dracula’s grip with his heart pounding as he waited for the bite. 

Dracula’s inky black hair fell over his face as he leaned down to Eskel’s exposed neck. Eskel barely felt the brush of hot, moist air on his skin. Then there was a sharp but short lived sting of pain. The fangs felt amazing as they went in, pushing past the resistance of his skin and sinking into him. He moaned, arching and straining against his chains. 

The pleasure was stunning, filling him and overflowing in that same instant. His heart was losing track of its beat, thundering in his ears in a rapid, uneven cadance. He was making sounds, but he knew that only because he could hear Alucard shushing him from the other side. There was a hand still in Eskel’s hair, petting there. Then it slid down to reach his chest, his arm, petting and stroking whatever was in reach. The touch felt amazing and torturous at once, so good that all Eskel could see was white spots in front of his eyes. At the same time it was endlessly frustrating, as it didn't go anywhere he really wanted to be touched.

He did not black out, but it was a close thing. When Dracula pulled away, leaving him drained of the burning, pulsing energy that was driving him insane, Eskel was nothing but a limp puppet in his grip.

“Here,” Dracula said. Eskel tried to blink awake as he felt himself being lowered. “Try now.”

Then there were cool hands on his face, turning his head, and cool lips on his own. The kiss was sweet and gentle, and for the life of him, Eskel couldn’t remember why that was. There were just hands on his face and the hot brand of another set of hands on his neck and side. He was tired and dazed. The world sort of mixed together for a moment in his mind.

But someone was kissing him, and it was soft and sweet, and Eskel had been feeling needy for so long. He leaned in, opening his mouth to those lips, and licked into them. There was a little jerk of startlement from the person in front of him, but Eskel couldn’t remember why that might be.

There was only the kiss, that lasted and stroked the coiling heat inside of him. 

That pleasant bit of warmth and want quickly turned to a searing, awful pain, as his veins boiled and his heart crashed into his chest. He arched up into it, tears falling from his eyes, and a pained moan slipped out.

Then there was a hot palm closing over his neck and pulling him back, away from the person he was kissing. He whined in distress and attempted to chase the contact when he felt the pain in his body flare up again, momentarily obscuring the lust.

“I don’t think this was part of of the plan.” Remarkably, Dracula sounded amused.

That’s right. Dracula was there. Which meant Alucard was in front of him. Fuck, he’d been chasing that kiss with Alucard. Eskel groaned again, but this time with a mix of self-loathing and frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” Alucard murmured, cool hands stroking Eskel’s face in apology. “I will try again.”

Eskel blinked blurrily at him, and panted. “Give me...ugh. Give me a moment.” He slumped in place, held up entirely by Dracula’s hands on him. 

He knew the pain from Steingard’s potion would only get worse, but Eskel needed that pain to ground him. Even if it felt like his organs were getting chewed up inside of him. 

“I think I’ve got it now,” Alucard assured him. The hands on his face were pulling now, gently and insistently, not giving Eskel _any time_ to brace himself.

Alucard’s lips were cool and already open as they pressed against him and his breath was just as cool as it slid into Eskel’s mouth. It held weight now, a heft that wasn’t just air. Reflex trained into Eskel by Dracula kicked in and he pulled it into himself, swallowing whatever Alucard was giving him. 

It was so different from Dracula’s power. Thicker, it slid down his throat like mulled wine. Warm but not burning, it eased the pain raging through his body like a gentle hand. It felt calm, controlled and so alive as it gently filled him. 

The longer the kiss lasted, the more relief Eskel felt. The agony that had plagued him for far too long was soothed away as Alucard’s energy filled him up. It didn’t feel like too much, though. Everything turned pleasant and floaty, and Eskel leaned into the sensation. There was pleasure, but it wasn’t the raging need that ripped through him when Dracula breathed power through him. This was more like lazy lovemaking, a slow, sleepy ecstasy that left Eskel happy and blissed out. 

When Alucard finally pulled away, Eskel leaned in after him, chasing the contact. His eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each, and he was limp with relief. 

“That was good,” he slurred, barely able to put the words together. “Felt nice.”

He kept tugging, pulling at his chains. He needed to touch, to get close again. Suddenly he heard a click and then his hands were free. He reached for Alucard, grabbing two fistfuls of that blue coat and dragging both of them together. He let out a quiet moan as he felt that contact resonate through his whole body.

Eskel snuggled in as close as he could get. Somewhere along the line his legs must have been freed, because he was able to twine himself with Alucard. He found he didn’t even care about the metal greaves, nor the leather belts and buckles. Everything of Alucard’s felt good. It made his skin come alive.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that now both of you are high?” 

“You’re just jealous,” Eskel mumbled happily, rubbing his cheek against Alucard’s jaw. The skin to skin contact was so wonderful.

He realized it would probably be better if he wasn’t wearing his shirt. That had felt glorious when he and Dracula had laid together, chest to chest. But pausing to take his filthy top off would mean he’d have to stop touching Alucard for a moment and that was unacceptable. Instead he just hummed grumpily for a moment, and clung tighter. 

He felt Dracula go intangibile, his senses tingling with the power of it so close to them both. Darkness curled around them all, obscuring even Eskel’s enhanced vision. He felt the world go mad, twisting and turning. 

When the madness stopped Eskel realized he was still wrapped up around Alucard, but he wasn’t on the floor anymore. Not completely. Both he and Alucard were laying on Dracula’s chest with the dark lord’s hands bracing them, keeping them close. Or at least keeping Eskel in place. Alucard was stretched up, pulled by the grip Dracula had on the back of his neck. The vampires were kissing again, wet and slow, filling the cell with soft sucking sounds.

Alucard’s weight pressed down on Eskel, like the best possible kind of living blanket. He could distantly tell that he was still horny and interested, but it was a far off thing and just being close to Alucard was the best feeling he could think of. He didn’t even mind all the kissing going on next to him.

“Why have you come,” Dracula asked into the kiss, so quietly Eskel only heard it because he was laying on top of the man. There was an odd kind of softness, maybe even confusion in Dracula's voice.

“Because all you ever needed to do was ask.” Alucard’s voice was rough in contrast, low and full of meaning Eskel couldn’t understand.

Dracula tensed, became unyieldingly hard for a moment, and then he was kissing Alucard again. Rough and hungry, Dracula seemed to do his best to devour his lover, all but fucking into him with his tongue, growling deep in his chest.

From the happy sounds Alucard was making deep in his throat, he was pleased as hell by this turn of events. The hand on Eskel’s shoulder was tightening and releasing in rhythmic fashion that reminded him of a cat. Eskel practically purred in happiness. The energy that both Dracula and Alucard were radiating flowed over and around him, stroking over him like a soft blanket. He thought he probably should be concerned with how easily he could sense their power, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He curled his hands up under Alucard’s coat, and gently scraped his nails down the skin there. It felt so nice to be trapped between them, warm and safe. Held and treasured. Their scents mingled together and filled him up, and he breathed it in. Alucard’s neck and collarbone were right there in front of him. It was so easy to lean in and nuzzle along the skin there. To ghost his breath over it, to taste, just a little. 

Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the room. Didn’t seem that important, though, so Eskel ignored it in favor of nosing up into Alucard’s jaw. Dracula and Alucard hadn’t stopped kissing, so it probably wasn’t anything serious. 

“...Should I come back another time?” Geralt said, sounding both sarcastic and pissed off. 

That actually did make Eskel pause for a moment. 

Geralt was there. 

Geralt was there watching him get squished between both Dracula and Alucard. While they enthusiastically swapped spit right next to him. 

_Fuck_. 

Had Eskel survived the last three weeks of captivity to be killed by his erstwhile rescuer?

“Geralt,” Dracula purred like a cat that just ate a canary and had another one waiting in his paws. “You came!”

“No,” Geralt growled back. “I sure did not.” 

Then there was a hand on the back of Eskel’s collar, pulling him up like a misbehaving kitten and shaking him once.

Geralt looked so upset, so unhappy, Eskel practically melted in his grip. Eskel knew how he felt. Tired, wrung out. Alone. He probably needed a good cuddle. 

“It’s alright. I haven’t come either,” Eskel said dreamily, and wrapped his arms around Geralt, holding him close. He vaguely remembered that he was covered in filth, days and days of blood and dirt, barely washed away by buckets of water, but that was fine. Geralt had armor on. He’d be alright. 

He petted Geralt’s hair. It wasn’t as nice as Alucard’s or Dracula’s, but it was still nice. 

Geralt froze under his hands, still holding on to Eskel’s collar. “The fuck is going on here?” At least now he sounded less mad, and really just more confused.

The hugs must be working. Eskel redoubled his efforts.

“Kissing,” Alucard said oh so helpfully.

“Mmm,” Eskel said in agreement. “Mostly them. But us a little too. They healed me. Isn’t that great?”

“...Us a little?” Geralt growled like a real wolf, low and threatening.

Eskel just nosed into Geralt’s jaw, rubbing into him. Maybe Dracula was right with the whole cat thing. Cats didn’t get tossed into dungeons, starved, and beaten for weeks, so maybe he should investigate the matter a little better. “You know how their healing goes,” he whispered into Geralt’s ear. “Starts with a kiss.”

“Not for you it doesn’t,” Geralt said giving Eskel another shake. Then he pulled Eskel closer again and gave him a few pats on the back. “Why did you need healing?”

“Been here for a while,” Eskel said. A little trickle of anxiety threatened to work its way up his back, but the overwhelming pleasure from Alucard’s breath knocked it back down. “They kept hitting me. For a long time. We’re tough, you and I, but I was pretty broken. And then Dracula healed me and I got broke again. And then again.” He shivered despite himself, and buried his head in Geralt’s shoulder. “It’s been a hard few weeks.”

Alucard made a sound then, like he was dying and in ecstasy at the same time. Eskel turned to look and saw that Dracula had rolled himself and Alucard over so that they were on their sides, entwined deeply and Dracula was feeding from Alucard. The bite looked vicious, nowhere close to how Dracula bit Eskel. Blood trickled down Alucard’s neck and Dracula was swallowing deeply, greedily, biting down over and over again. Alucard whined, deep and loud, and his hands scrabbled at Dracula’s armored coat, trying to hold on to something, pull Dracula closer.

The sight just made Eskel sigh, both in appreciation and exasperation. From the way Geralt shifted under him, he wasn’t unaffected by the sight either.

“You should go to them. They need you, Geralt,” Eskel said softly. It would be difficult, he thought, since he couldn’t really stand up on his own yet. But after the last few days it was pretty clear to him just how much the three of them fit together, Geralt, Dracula, and Alucard. He could hang out on the floor while they did whatever they were gonna do. It wasn’t dawn yet, they still had time.

He squinted at the window. Was it dawn? Time had blurred a bit. It was kind of bright out, he thought. They’d been curled up in the darkest part of the room, and Eskel hadn’t really been paying much attention. 

“I want to,” Geralt said tightly. “But I snuck in here without taking out the guards, because I wasn’t sure if this is where you were kept. I didn't want to get Steingard’s attention too soon.”

“Ah. That asshole.” Eskel rubbed his face with one hand and tried to pull together some kind of sane thought. Gods, but everything felt off. The fuck was wrong with him? “What time is it? He’ll probably be by sometime soon. After yesterday, he’d probably want to see if I was awake again. Plus he’s got Alucard to gloat over.”

He waved a hand at where Alucard was still writhing in Dracula’s embrace. Then he snorted with laughter. The idea of both Dracula and Alucard being ‘kidnapped’ by a small group of regular old humans was ridiculous.

“Oh yeah. Geralt.” Eskel looked at him right in the eye. This was important. “Dracula has been very kind. I mean, also a total asshole. But shockingly nice, too.”

Geralt looked at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Was he now?”

Eskel nodded. “I promised to tell you. I need to tell Alucard, too. I think he might know, though.” 

Whatever power Alucard had given him was still pulsing through his body, because the need to go touch and hold was getting to be uncontrollable. Surely Dracula wouldn’t mind if Eskel joined them on the floor? 

He tried to push away from Geralt, to stagger over to where Dracula was licking into Alucard’s healing neck. But Geralt’s grip on his collar was like iron. 

“No. No, I think you need to wait this one out,” Geralt said, sounding both tired and grumpy.

Dracula was no longer drinking from Alucard, but instead kissing him, his lips and chin stained by blood. Alucard was holding on to him like Dracula was his only lifeline, pushing into the kiss with a hunger Eskel didn't expect to see from him.

“Now that I have _two vampires_ to help, getting out shouldn’t be a problem, mage or no,” Geralt said pointedly towards the pair still entwined on the floor. “You are too stoned to be of much help,” he added, shaking Eskel again. Eskel felt offended, he could fight even if he was stoned!

Still, Eskel burst into snickers, so much so that he sagged right back into Geralt’s arms. “Oh Geralt. They aren’t going to be any help at all. It wouldn’t be a real rescue if they did it themselves, would it?”

“Dracula,” Geralt called, pointedly, still fighting against his fate.

Dracula actually pulled away from the kiss to answer.

“I can’t do anything.” His voice was painfully insincere. “I haven’t eaten in days, was shackled in silver cuffs. I’m too weak, I’m afraid.”

“Alucard,” Geralt said.

“I need him for sustenance,” Dracula answered immediately, nudging Alucard’s head back to show them the ragged bites that were already mostly healed.

“Don’t worry, Geralt. I’ll help.” Eskel was confident that he’d be able to lend a hand. “I’m feeling a hell of a lot better.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said softly, one hand covering his face. 

“I know just how you feel,” Eskel said sympathetically, and patted him on the chest. 

\---

Geralt had a problem.

He had three main problems and a whole host of smaller ones, one of them being that he had no idea how to feel.

Part of him wanted to rage at the way he’d found Eskel, Alucard, and Dracula all tangled up. Jealousy burned at him. That should have been him in between his vampire lovers. Eskel didn’t have the right to touch them, to run his hands under Alucard’s clothes like he was doing when Geralt came in.

But that jealousy was tempered strongly by what Eskel said, and how he looked. His poor brother. Just looking at him made Geralt want to wince. There was a lot of blood soaked into his clothes. Enough that it fairly thoroughly covered most of the fabric in dark brown stains. The room stank of it, as well as a faint tell-tale acidity that Geralt had come to associate with terror. Part of him was just so damn relieved that Dracula was there to help, to keep Eskel whole no matter what else was going on. 

Geralt also reminded himself that cuddling with Eskel was something that had become the norm for Alucard, and sometimes the rest of them as well. He’d long ago come to accept that, and the little spike of jealousy fled as quick as it had arrived. If Alucard had to pick anyone to spend more time with, Geralt was pleased it was Eskel. They’d been close friends from the moment they met at Kaer Morhen as children, brothers in every way but blood.

Seeing Eskel this high was deeply amusing too. Eskel was never this friendly, this happy. He kept touching Geralt, trying to hug him or pat him. While he would never pull away from a greeting, Eskel just wasn't this touchy, ever. He was also babbling. Geralt was hesitant to believe him capable of fighting, if only because it seemed that the only thing keeping him vertical was Geralt’s hand in his collar.

And then there were Dracula and Alucard. 

Geralt didn’t know whether to tear is hair out or just say fuck it, bar the door from the inside, and finally fuck them both like everyone involved clearly wanted. 

A strange thought occurred to Geralt while he was trying to figure out just what the hell to do.

Even Eskel had cottoned on to the fact that Dracula was playing out a rescue. There was something about this whole thing that Dracula wanted, and wanted badly. Whatever that was, Geralt couldn’t guess. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Dracula didn’t really ask for things. He took what he wanted, or he allowed things to happen. But he didn’t make requests. 

Except here was this ridiculous kidnapping farce, which Dracula gleefully went along with. It was asking without asking, really. He still wasn’t sure what the end goal was, but if this little scenario was something Dracula wanted, then maybe Geralt should take it more seriously. 

So. How would Geralt normally save three incapacitated civilians from a dungeon?

Step one, get them out. Then kill off the captors.

He looked at where Dracula lay on the floor, licking Alucard’s neck. 

Correction. Step one, get them to stop fucking doing that right now. 

“A proper victim wouldn’t be doing that.” He pointed at the entwined vampires. “Back into the chains with you.”

That finally caught Dracula’s attention and he pulled up from Alucard’s neck to look at Geralt.

“Nooo,” Eskel groaned, hiding into Geralt’s neck. “I don’t like the chains.”

Geralt didn’t love chains himself, but a must was a must.

“You can pretend to be unconscious against that wall.” Geralt motioned the corner furthest away from the silver chains.

That had Eskel nodding sagely. “Good idea. Just don’t take too long.” After that, he staggered a few steps towards the corner and dropped to his knees. 

Gods, but Eskel was stoned. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t more than a little distressing.

Geralt considered Dracula and Alucard who were now both staring at him curiously. He lifted his hand to the strap of his diagonally closed armor and considered his options.

“If you promise no more making out before we leave this place I will make a good show of coming to your rescue,” he wheedled, pulling at the first strap. Dracula’s eyes narrowed, fixing on the strap Geralt was playing with.

Yes, Geralt was promising a little public strip tease to get his lovers to behave. In battle, sometimes compromises had to be made.

“Deal,” Dracula rumbled in that deep, echoing voice that never failed to send shivers down Geralt’s back.

Then he burst into shadows, turned into nothing but a black mist, and reformed with hands neatly chained up in the silver shackles.

Alucard looked both amused and interested. Then he followed his father’s example and turned into his spectral form, solidifying against the wall near Dracula with his hands also chained.

Apparently Eskel had decided that the corner was too far away, because he just laid down where he fell on the floor. He watched them all with unfocused interest. 

_Close enough_ , Geralt thought, looking at him. 

He shook his head and walked out of the dungeon. 

This was going to be the hard part. He kind of wanted to hit his head on the wall. 

But Dracula wanted this, and Alucard seemed interested, too. It would be worth it.

Eskel was hopefully too stoned to understand the full ridiculousness of what was going to happen. Or he better be, because Geralt would make him suffer if he decided to remember any of it.

With careful, practiced hands, he opened up the front of his armor and shirt, making sure to show skin all the way down to his waist. It rankled something inside of him to leave himself so exposed, especially while out on a hunt. But he’d fought with no armor before, so even if they did run into guards on the way out, Geralt was reasonably sure this wouldn’t get him killed. 

He _hoped_. 

After that he dug through his selection of potions, and drank several. Swallow, Wolf, Maribor Forest, and Blizzard, just because he could. That left his system with enough resilience that he could drink White Raffard’s Decoction if he needed the faster healing. Not that he really expected he would, but. Well. Might as well do this right.

Then he drew his steel sword and poured Hanged Man’s Venom onto it. Handy for whatever guards they might run into, but also the oil gave the magic runes on the blade an eerie glow. More dramatic that way. Dracula would get a kick out of it.

Geralt took a breath, and tried not to think about what this was going to look like. 

Then he kicked in the door. 

He scanned the room quickly, sword raised, as if looking for foes hiding in every corner. When his eyes crossed to where Dracula stood chained, he let himself light up with happiness, and rushed in.

In just a few leaps he was at Dracula’s side, all warm smiles and relief. “Dracula,” he breathed out. “You’re alright. I worried so much.”

To be honest, there was a fair amount of worrying, but most of it had to do with collateral damage. That was besides the point, though. 

“Geralt.” Dracula sounded breathy enough to make Geralt’s cock think they were in a bedroom rather than a dungeon.

Twining his free hand into Dracula’s hair, Geralt pulled him into a powerful kiss and pressed him into the wall. He didn’t let it last, though. They were on a time limit. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” he said with a grin.

“Yaaaaay,” Eskel groaned quietly from the middle of the room. “Fucking finally.”

“Shut it,” Geralt said. “I’m working here.”

Eskel snorted, but stayed quiet.

Geralt decided he needed to do something to get them all back on track. He flipped his sword in his hand, changing the grip twice before sheathing it. With both hands free, he caught hold of the silver chain and pulled until the metal snapped with a loud crack.

Alucard made the tiniest, lustiest gasp beside him and Geralt’s cock honest to god twitched at the sound.

Then Geralt grabbed the chain leading to the other wrist cuff and snapped that too. This time Alucard’s gasp was echoed by Dracula’s loud inhale. As soon as his hands were free, Dracula was reaching for Geralt. His hands slid over Geralt’s chest, thumbs finding his nipples and stroking there as he leaned in for a hungry kiss again.

“Do mine too,” Alucard whispered beside them, jingling his own chains.

“I was kidnapped longer,” Dracula grumbled, angling for another kiss. His hands were warm, almost burning against the skin as he stroked down Geralt’s sides. Then he rubbed down to Geralt’s belly and back up his chest, fondling every muscle on the way.

“We have to hurry,” Geralt said, catching the wandering hands and trying not to let himself think about how good they felt on his skin. “The guards can come back any second.” 

He couldn’t be sure, as he never saw that expression on Dracula’s face before, but he could swear Dracula was pouting as he pulled away from his enthusiastic groping session.

Geralt turned to Alucard and grabbed ahold of his shackles. Before he broke them, though, he pulled Alucard in for a crushing kiss. That, too, only lasted a moment.

“Alucard!” he exclaimed, trying hard to sound breathless and elated. “I’m so glad you are all right!”

“Hmm,” was Alucard’s only response. Geralt waited a bit for more, but all Alucard seemed to be interested was in groping Geralt’s chest and his eyes fixed squarely on where his hands were.

Geralt waited some more.

“Pssst,” Eskel said in the fakest whisper Geralt had ever heard. “Grab his hair. I swear to the Gods you both have a fetish.”

“Alucard,” Geralt tried again, but all he got was in answer were thumbs rubbing over his nipples. Even though Dracula was the one who Geralt had meant to tease with his open shirt, it looked like Alucard was just as affected, if not more so. There was a blatant hunger to his stare that made Geralt even more impatient for them to be gone. 

As delightful as this was, though, it wasn’t really what Geralt was trying for here. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. 

_Fuck it_ , he thought. 

He grabbed hold of Alucard’s hair close to the scalp and pulled, just a little. “I know you’re so hungry, my wolf. You’ve been locked here in silver for so long. Can you hold yourself together until we escape?” Geralt asked in a low growl, practically breathing the words into Alucard’s lips.

Alucard’s eyes, already dark, became even darker. Still, it took him another few moments before he dragged his eyes from Geralt’s chest and met his eyes. He still managed to get good palmful of Geralt’s chest and hold on, doing his best to press against Geralt’s front.

“Anything you want,” Alucard breathed. 

Geralt suddenly realized Alucard was high. Not as high as he got after feeding on Dracula, but definitely not his usual, calm and collected self.

That certainly made things more interesting. He suppressed a sigh, and then shook his head, smiling. Ciri would laugh at him for this. So much. 

That did mean that he had one absolutely unhelpful civilian in Dracula and two mostly high ones that could be helpful but most probably get them all killed while trying.

He gave Alucard’s hair another tight pull, and then reached down to break apart the shackles. Honestly, it was probably a good thing that Steingard commissioned actual silver chains. Geralt would be having a significantly harder time breaking apart good tempered steel. The tiny, shuddering gasp from Alucard was more than a worthwhile reward for his efforts though. 

Before he could get too distracted with that, he turned to look at Eskel, who was laying bonelessly on the floor. 

“Hiyah,” Eskel said with a little wave. 

“You’re supposed to be unconscious.” Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve already passed out half a dozen times this week. I’m full up on that.” The words came out easy, and Eskel still seemed barely able to focus on anything. 

That dampened Geralt’s irritation with the scene. It took a lot to make a witcher pass out. Before the worry had the time to rise up, Dracula distracted him by sliding his hand under the open flaps of Geralt’s armor and trailing it down Geralt’s stomach. He just managed to catch Dracula’s hand before it got under the waistband of his pants.

There was no point in glaring at Dracula, because Geralt already knew he would be completely unrepentant. So instead he turned to look at Alucard.

“Can you carry Eskel for me? He needs the help.”

Eskel tossed a rude gesture at him. “I’m fine. But if the carrying means more touching, that sounds like a great idea.” 

Geralt glared at Eskel.

“Keep your paws to yourself,” he said grumpily. Then he turned to Alucard. “Just swing him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.” He laid a hairy eye on Eskel again. “Please,” he said sweetly to Alucard.

“Eskel is nice,” Alucard purred, tilting closer to Dracula now. “He can watch if he wants.”

“Is that so.” Dracula looked speculatively at Eskel.

“Mmmm. No fucking, please.” Eskel blinked hard and furrowed his brow. “I mean, me. I’m glad you all are so happy together.” His gaze softened on Geralt. “Lucky bastard.”

Geralt took a slow breath through his nose and tried to pull his brain back on track. Then he walked over to where Eskel lay and helped him sit up. Though mostly that meant just lifting him straight up by his shirt. “Alucard?”

The younger vampire sighed sadly and walked towards them. Then he reached down, grabbed Eskel’s collar and picked him up like he was a child. Geralt watched as Eskel briefly tried regain his footing while hanging from Alucard’s grip. Geralt kept forgetting just how strong Alucard was. This little show of strength was enough to make a fresh wave of heat blaze up in Geralt’s body. 

Then Eskel seemed to realize who was holding him, and he reached out to pull himself into Alucard’s body. A soft groan of relief escaped him, as he burrowed his face into the collar of Alucard’s coat, rubbing his cheek against it like a cat. “Even your coat feels great,” he mumbled softly. “Why is that?”

Alucard held him close for a moment, nuzzling back into Eskel’s hair. Then he shifted Eskel around so that he was perched on Alucard’s back. His arms hung over Alucard’s shoulders, and his legs were hitched up on either side of Alucard’s hips.

“For the love of,” Geralt groaned watching the cuddlefest going on a few inches away. “We are escaping this dungeon. I am saving you all, remember that?” Then he looked to Dracula still leaning against the wall where Geralt left him, watching Alucard and Eskel with interested eyes.

“You could help, you know.” Geralt pointed at his naked chest. “So that you can get a piece of this?”

A breathy little giggle escaped from Eskel and he dropped his head in amusement. “It’s a rescue. Look at him.” He flapped a hand at Dracula’s powerful form reclining with ease along the wall. “He’s all weak from being tortured for three weeks. He might swoon.” Then he broke down into hysterical giggles, face hidden in Alucard’s hair. 

Dracula’s eyes lit up. 

_Noooo. Eskel, you bastard_.

“I do feel very faint,” Dracula said, the back of one clawed hand gently held to his forehead. 

Geralt already knew what was coming, so he was able to get to Dracula just in time to get collapsed on. Rather than actually pretending to swoon, though, Dracula just used this as an opportunity to get another handful of Geralt’s chest and ass. 

“My strong hero,” Dracula said with a toothy grin.

Despite Geralt’s general irritation with the situation, there was something wonderful about having Dracula fall into his arms like that. It made him want to see what kinds of lovely sounds he could wring out of the vampire while the mood held. Maybe the whole idea had some merit after all.

Regardless, any moment now guards were going to come in, Geralt was sure of it. The longer they spent here, the better those odds got. So rather than arguing, he just shifted Dracula’s weight around so that one of his arms was slung around Geralt’s shoulder. 

“I know you’re in pain,” Geralt said as sweetly as he could muster. “But we need to go. Try to hold on to me, and I’ll get us out of here.”

Then he pulled his steel sword out of its sheath, adding a flashy twirl just for the visual effect. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the little inhale he heard from both Dracula and Alucard made him that little bit hotter.

“Thank fucking Gods,” Eskel muttered as if he wasn’t directly responsible for half of this madness. 

Trying to get out of there quietly was a lost cause at this point, and Geralt knew it. Between the broken door and all the chatter, at some point he was going to run into opposition. 

It wasn’t that he was worried about Dracula or Alucard being in the way. They couldn’t really get hurt here. It was more that he was just a tiny bit concerned about them _being in the fucking way_.

“If we run into any guards, Dracula, I want you to go stand by Alucard.” Geralt looked at Dracula seriously, and let worry fill up his gaze. “I know Alucard is starving, and he’s dangerous to be around, but he’ll keep you safe while I take care of anyone we run into.”

Geralt did his best to pretend he couldn’t hear the muffled choking coming from Eskel.

Amusement danced in Dracula’s eyes too, but he kept a straight face. 

“If you think he can be trusted. Alright. I trust you,” Dracula said, looking at Geralt with eyes that glowed softly red. He couldn’t help but feel that there were more to those words than just the playacting. 

Geralt froze. While Dracula had shown him care and attention, he was aware of how aloof the vampire kept himself. Dracula shared little of his feelings, a veil of coldness and control hiding most of what he was from view. To hear him admit to trusting Geralt like that was more than a little shocking. What they had, it wasn’t just about possessiveness or about pleasure any more. 

A deep, vast well of protectiveness came over him. Dracula’s trust was a precious thing, and Geralt damn well knew it. His chest felt tight with how full his heart felt right then, proud and happy and fierce. He knew he’d do anything to keep that gift safe.

“Is this why you are doing this?” Geralt asked quietly, motioning to the whole mess they were I right now. “Is this… a test?” The thing was, Geralt didn't feel angry about it. He understood. From what Dracula told him of his past, it was just one clusterfuck after another, with very little choice on Dracula’s part. If what he needed was a proof of Geralt’s loyalty, he would gladly give it.

Dracula was quiet for a moment, his eyes dark, the red banked. “No,” he said eventually, keeping his voice low. “Not really.”

“Then why?”

Dracula licked his lips.

“I wanted to see what it feels like to be saved.”

All of that joy that had built up in Geralt’s heart cracked and bled. Dracula had never been saved, never had someone to rely on. When he was in his darkest moments, all others had failed him, and failed him so utterly that it helped forge Dracula into this. The pain and rage and general disgust that suffused Dracula’s whole being came from somewhere. To hear that he’d cast even a little of that aside and allowed himself to trust again was huge. Even if it only was for this farce. If Geralt failed him here, Dracula wouldn’t really be hurt. Not physically anyways. But the whole charade was a strange offering of trust, and Geralt was blown away by it.

“I love you,” Geralt said softly, staring right into those gorgeous burning red eyes. 

He could see the way Dracula’s eyes widened briefly, giving him a surprisingly vulnerable look before he pulled behind the walls that were always just behind his eyes.

“I did monstrous things,” Dracula said hoarsely.

“I don’t care.” Geralt’s words were nothing but the simple truth, and were said just as plainly. “You aren’t your past. I love you as you are, good and bad.”

Dracula looked soft again, raising his hand to skim just the tips of his fingers over Geralt’s chest.

“I.... thank you, I… it’s hard to remember, what that felt like.”

Geralt smiled at him, warm and sweet. He raised a hand to trail it over Dracula’s jaw, and ran a thumb over the side of his mouth. “Whatever you feel, or don’t, is alright. I love you.”

Gentle as feather down, Geralt kissed him. It was just the barest brush of their lips, but he hoped it would hold all the tenderness he felt. 

Dracula was letting himself feel again. And that, really, was why Geralt was doing all of this anyways. A soft, sappy smile spread across Geralt’s face and he gently kissed Dracula’s forehead. “Thank you. I don’t ever want to see you hurt.”

“You gonna save us?” Eskel prompted from over Alucard’s shoulder, breaking the moment.

Geralt sighed, and then nodded. “Come on.”

He led them out of the dungeon and up the stairs. It was slow going. As much as Geralt wanted to just run right out of there, he was hindered by the fact that there were still guards floating around. More importantly, it was still daylight out, and they had to avoid as much sunlight as possible for as long as they could. Once they got to a safe egress point, he’d ask Alucard to change into a wolf. Until then, he really needed the extra help with carrying Eskel.

Not to mention, Alucard would probably refuse to change forms until it became absolutely necessary.

Before they went too far, though, Geralt heard a group approaching. The others must have heard, too, because everyone froze. Quiet as could be, Geralt eased Dracula over onto Alucard’s shoulder.

He stalked forward, waiting for just the right moment. 

Right as the group of three guards rounded the corner, Geralt dashed out. The first swing wounded all three of them. Geralt reversed his swing and got two of them again before they managed to stagger back. The third almost unsheathed his sword before Geralt lunged at him and speared him though the chest. The runes on his sword glowed eerily in the dark corridor as blood splashed over them.

Out of the two he wounded first, one was already bleeding out and dying, but the other was alive and his sword was out. Geralt had to roll away, regaining his footing as fast as he could. He turned sharply and threw a dagger. It lodged in the last guard’s neck, killing him instantly.

All in all, it was done in a matter of seconds. The guards were killed so quickly that they weren’t even able to sound an alarm. With a swift, practiced movement, Geralt flicked the blood off of the blade of his sword. Then he stepped over the corpses to retrieve his dagger. 

When he turned to look back to the others, he was met with two pairs of glowing eyes, red and gold. They practically shined in the dim light, and both Dracula and Alucard’s lips were parted in hunger. He could feel their interest prickling in the energy around them, and their scents turned musky and sweet.

The effect was somewhat ruined by how Eskel was happily nosing into Alucard’s mane of silver hair. 

“Loot them,” Eskel murmured. “They stole all my gear.” He sounded so damn mournful about it.

Geralt winced. Few things were as frustrating to a witcher than having all of his hard earned and hoarded equipment taken. That was when he finally noticed that even Eskel’s witcher medallion was gone. Fuck, of course his swords were gone too. That had to burn.

Without another word, Geralt searched the bodies. That, too, was fast work. He was well familiar with it. He managed to find one of Eskel’s potions and two high quality daggers as well as a few shitty ones. The swords the guards carried were shit, and the clubs they had stank of Eskel’s blood. 

Without a word, he passed the daggers to Eskel. He wasn’t in any condition to fight with a sword, but Geralt knew he would feel better with some steel on him.

Geralt picked off three more guards with his daggers, the quietest way he could in the maze of corridors that extended deep under the building. He wasn’t certain where exactly they were going, but he had a good sense of direction and a fair idea. If he was right, they’d end up in a neighboring building. Maybe he’d be able to avoid Steingard altogether. Come back and kill the man at his leisure. 

They passed by several side rooms and a few halls, all of which twisted away into dead ends. Just as Geralt was starting to think they’d gone far enough, the hallway turned a corner and emptied into a large room.

The very first thing Geralt saw was the table in the middle of the huge empty space. Straps hung off the sides and the wood was stained with old blood. He could smell it from across the damn room; the rusty, metallic stench mixed in with the biting scent of alchemical ingredients. Lab equipment was spread around the rest of the area, lining the walls with bubbling glass jars and racks of ingredients. One wall held nothing but various types of blades; each one was meticulously cleaned, but there was no doubt in Geralt’s mind their use. This was a torture room, and one used with great frequency. 

Steingard’s lab.

Maybe the same lab he tortured Kiyan in, the same one he drove him mad in.

“Well, well. What an unexpected pleasure.” 

Fuck. While Geralt had been staring around, he’d failed to see the man off in a corner. It had to be Steingard. Power crackled around him, setting Geralt’s teeth on edge.

The blue lightning ball arcing right for him was a dead giveaway, too. Geralt rolled to the left, but his shoulder took some of the burn anyway. 

He shrugged it off and dashed to the side, throwing a dagger at Steingard as he moved. As expected, a blue shield flared up, reflecting the projectile.

“You must be Geralt of Rivia. I’ve heard so much about you.” The mage’s voice was obnoxious. Fuck, this guy was a talker. Why were mages always talkers? “Please come out. I insist.”

Another ball of lightning flashed across the room, but this time towards where Dracula, Alucard, and Eskel stood. But it crackled against a shield. Eskel’s Quen sign glowed gold and strong around the three of them. He was always good with those.

Geralt flashed a smile to them, and Eskel grinned back viciously. He looked a little more alert, something Geralt spared a moment to be thankful for.

Before he could catch his breath, another bolt of lightning cracked across the room, hitting Eskel’s shield once more. It flickered a bit, but held.

Geralt used that distraction to dash across the room towards where Steingard stood. It only took a heartbeat or two. Geralt was fast normally, but boosted up on his potions he was quicksilver incarnate. Steingard barely saw him before Geralt was right on top of him, swinging. 

The runes on his steel sword glowed and he slammed into the shield around Steingard. Geralt didn’t have any dimeritium, the metal that disrupted and suppressed magic, but he did know that if he could just do enough damage it wouldn’t matter. 

Sure enough, that swing was enough to send black cracks through Steingard’s shield. It didn’t break it, though. 

Words echoed in the room, and Steingard was enveloped in silvery light. In a heartbeat, the mage was gone.

Portals. Gods, how Geralt _hated_ them. 

Lightning crackled from the other side of the room, and Geralt dodged on instinct. Looked like Steingard wasn’t going to run very far. The bolt hit right next to where Geralt stood, crashing into the small jars there with a sickening crunch. Foul purple smoke plumed up, and a green glowing fire flickered in one of the cracked dishes. 

Before Geralt could even think about that, another bolt was headed his way. He dashed across the room, just missing bolt after bolt. But with each leap, he was that much closer to where Steingard stood. Ozone made the air rank, and power crackled around them. 

“You should give up now, witcher,” Steingard said with an unhinged grin. “I’ve fought faster fighters than you.”

The last word was echoed by many voices and Geralt threw himself to the ground on instinct. As he rolled he realised that there were now more Steingards in the room, each haloed in the electric blue shield around his body. Four, maybe five, each casting bolts of energy at him. Geralt cursed, cast Quen on himself, and decided to just lunge for the closest mage. He needed to whittle down the number of enemies even if it meant taking some damage.

He took a bolt straight to the face as he reached the first one. His Quen took the brunt of the damage, but it flickered away after that. Not that it mattered. Geralt was already swinging into the mage. His sword slammed into Steingard’s body, going right through the lung, the blade scraping the ribs on the way. Blood poured out of his mouth, but the mage only grinned and caught Geralt’s sword arm, holding on tightly with a hand that burned purple.

When Geralt tried to pull back and free his sword, he found he couldn’t. The grip the mage on him had was too tight. He heard the crackle of the spells just before they hit him, two of the bolts slamming into his back. The runes on his armor flared up, absorbing some of the damage but not all. The burn tore a yell out of his throat. He cast Igni, burning Steingard and himself in equal measure, but it broke the grip the mage had on his sword arm. Geralt gripped the weapon double handed and heaved, cutting right through the mage, separating his upper body from the lower half and spilling the mage’s insides across the floor in a wide arc as he freed the blade.

He halfway expected the other mages to disperse when this one died, but there were still bolts of electricity being lobbed at him. He had no idea how this was happening, but all of the mages were real and all of five, no four now, of them were physical and alive.

If he was going to live through this, he’d have to distract some of them. Geralt dodged his way across the room, barely missing bolt after bolt. But as he ran, he grabbed a few of bombs from his belt. 

As he darted into range, he tossed a Samum bomb into one corner. The moment it landed, a small shockwave blasted the area, causing the mage in that corner to stagger in place. 

The next one he ran by, he threw a Dragon’s Dream at, releasing a gas into the air. He flung himself backwards and cast Igni at it, lighting the gas on fire with a loud boom. The force of it actually pushed him a few feet farther away. He rolled out of it, landing on his feet again. 

Another crackle of electricity sparked behind him, and Geralt managed to shield himself just in time. His Quen soaked up the bolt, but not quite enough. Some of it leaked through, sending Geralt briefly to his knees, arched up in agony. 

Pain overwhelmed him for a moment, and he struggled to stand back up. He couldn’t stay still, though. He knew that. So instead he rolled in place, getting away from the spot where he’d been pinned down. 

A strangled cry from one of the remaining unoccupied mages made Geralt jerk his head up to see. A dagger had buried itself deep into the mage’s eye socket. From the pommel, it was one of the ones he gave to Eskel. 

The wounded mage screamed and clawed at his face. Before he could do more than that, a second dagger joined the first, hitting his other eye. Purple energy and liquid poured down the mage’s face, and it dropped to the ground. 

Geralt grinned. That brief respite was enough for him to catch his wind again. Already he could feel his wounds knitting up, faster than any regular human could ever hope for. Even better, there was only one unoccupied mage left. Dodging lightning bolts from just one of them was easy as could be, and in no time Geralt had closed the distance. 

“This is for Kiyan,” he said as he pushed his sword through Steingards stomach. He slowed halfway through, once he felt the scrape of his spine against his blade. The rest of the push through was agonizingly slow as Geralt made sure that Steingard felt himself die. All the while, he looked into the man’s wide and stunned eyes. “And this is for Eskel.” When the sword was hilt deep, he twisted, turning the blade inside the man and making a mincemeat of his insides.

Geralt turned around just in time to see the mage who’d been lit on fire collapse. His corpse was charred and grotesque, and another of Eskel’s daggers stuck out of his throat.

One left then. 

Before Geralt could get close, though, the Samum bomb wore off. Steingard shook his head and looked around the room in dismay. The room was a mess of fire, smoke, and body parts. 

He snarled at Geralt, and grabbed a group of small glass vials off of a nearby table. “Know your place, witcher, and die like the filthy mutant you are!” he screamed, and tossed the vial right at Geralt’s face.

The first one, Geralt managed to slash away with his sword; the acid green liquid splattered the blade but didn’t reach him. The second bottle he had to use his forearm to deflect, his face and chest getting splashed with the thick, blue liquid. Everywhere the liquid touched, Geralt’s skin burned. 

_Acid_. 

It fucking hurt, but he knew that his potions would take care of the damage in no time. The third vial he ducked away from. Before the fourth one reached him, he had Quen up already. The fast casting pulled at his reserves madly, but his potions would help with that, too. 

No other projectiles reached him. The Quen shield absorbed them with flickers of gold as he crossed the room towards the mage. 

It was an odd sensation, killing the same man over and over. Even his rage passed to be replaced with cold purpose. He cut from over his head, making use of Steingard’s instinctive defensive upraised arm, severing the right limb completely. He swung again, and his sword bit deep into the flesh and bone of the left before he jerked the sword free, not even hearing Steingard's howls of pain. Then he shifted position and brought his blade in a forward thrust, piercing Steingard's stomach. Halfway through the motion he switched grips, turning the blade to the side and down. He pushed with his body, opening Steingard from belly to hip and ripping most of his insides out. They landed on the floor with a loud splatter as he watched Stengard feel it. His eyes went wide and his face twisted as he experienced the pain of the blow. Then his eyes rolled up and he fell, dead before he hit the ground.

Mages, always such a fucking pain in the ass to fight.

Before Geralt could move away, a group of guards raced into the room. They staggered to a stop as soon as they saw the destruction around them, their mouths dropped in horror. Geralt just bared his teeth, and adjusted his grip on his sword. 

As one they all ran back the way they came. 

It was tempting to run after them, but Geralt had more important things to deal with. Maybe later he’d help Eskel come back and find them. 

Geralt turned to where Eskel and his lovers were wedged into the mouth of the corridor they came from. 

Eskel’s Quen fell off of them with a flicker of gold. He was no longer on Alucard’s back. Instead, he was leaning on Alucard’s side, almost managing to keep the upright position. One of Alucard’s hands rested on his neck, stabilizing him, probably. 

Eskel looked over at Geralt and started clapping slowly.

“Nicely done, you fucking lunatic.” Eskel’s eyes kept sliding to the one remaining body in the room, though it still looked like he was having a hard time focusing on anything in particular. After the real Steingard died, all the other bodies dissipated into thin air, leaving only the acrid smell of his magic behind. “Good of you to leave a little for me.”

Eskel tried taking a step away, but his knees buckled and he started folding down onto the floor. Alucard was faster and caught his arm, hoisting him up again. He barely seemed to notice when Alucard pulled Eskel’s arm over his shoulders. All he did was lean forward in some half-assed attempt to drag them towards the body on the ground.

Alucard looked to Geralt, his gold eyes worried. Then he glanced back to what was left of Steingard, gaze flicking over the remnants. Something sparked in his eyes, some understanding, and he started moving them both towards the remains. As soon as their boots squelched over the spilled insides, Eskel bent down, his hand extended.

The medallions.

Geralt wanted to smack himself in the face. Of course. 

Eskel pulled his Wolf medallion off Steingard’s belt and put it over his own head. He stared at the mage for a moment, before spitting at the face still locked in the dying grimace. Next he reached for the other three Cat medallions still notched around the mage’s belt.

“They deserve better.” He put the medallions in his pocket.

They might have had their issues with the Cat School, might have been enemies, but what Steingard did to people was something Geralt wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He still dreamed of Mad Kiyan at times, saw the man’s flayed body, the exposed bones, and the meat of his muscles. The fact that he was alive with that kind of damage done deliberately and systematically to him would be enough to drive anyone insane. Steingard had specifically spent time and effort to keep Kiyan alive with that goal in mind. And the multiple medallions meant he did it more than once. Geralt had only seen that one example.

“Thank you,” Eskel said softly. One hand still held his Wolf medallion close to his chest, making the metal press against his skin. His normally rough voice was raw and cracked, and Geralt didn’t like how he still swayed a bit in place.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. If I knew earlier, I would have come for you sooner. You know that right? I would never leave you in his hands,” Geralt said, overcome suddenly with the need to make sure Eskel knew he had people in his corner, that Eskel would never be a nameless medallion on somebody’s belt.

But when Eskel looked up at him, it was with mild surprise. “I didn’t expect to be saved. No witcher dies in bed, and most of us die alone.” A small, pleased smile curled at his lips and he leaned forward, grabbing Geralt’s shoulder and pulling him close. “We do our best, Geralt. That’s all we can do. I would not have blamed you, nor anyone else for my fate.”

“It’s no longer true,” Alucard said suddenly. “Death might be a neutral force in itself, but it’s still very much part of my Father’s kingdom. Don’t think either of you will meet it alone. Not with my Father as fond of you as he is.”

“That’s terrifying,” Eskel said flatly, but Geralt could see the way his shoulders sagged just a little in relief.

“Isn’t it?” Dracula chimed in delightedly.

Geralt liked it, though. Liked the knowledge that when his time came, he would have someone there beside him, someone to see him off. Whether they were still lovers or no by then, he loved the idea of a familiar person being with him at the end. 

“Not at all,” Geralt said roughly. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Eskel huffed in exasperation, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips too. “Cheater.” 

It was an old argument between them. A familiar barb that they tossed back and forth over beer and camp fires. 

“Witchers are all cheaters,” Geralt said with a grin, and lightly bumped his head against Eskel’s. “You’re the one who taught me half the card tricks I know.”

“I’m not the one who got it in with the Devil,” Eskel stated with a snort.

There was a worrisome pause as Alucard gave Dracula a _look_. Dracula just looked back at Alucard.

“I wouldn’t go quite as far with your statement,” Dracula said finally.

Almost in slow motion, Eskel turned to look at Dracula. Then he blinked. Hard. “I am alarmed. I still feel kind of amazing though, so it’s really hard to feel as alarmed as I feel like I should be? But. That’s really worrisome.” He paused, clearly trying to organize his thoughts, but having a hell of a hard time doing so. The longer Eskel thought, the more heavily he leaned on Geralt, as if he could only concentrate on one thing at a time, standing or thinking.

“Dracula…” Geralt started, mildly concerned now too. 

“Did I miss something?” Eskel sounded incredibly confused, but also strangely childlike. “I don’t remember some parts from this week. I think I blacked out a lot.”

Fuck. Geralt closed his eyes and held on a little tighter. He was really, really fucking grateful that Dracula had been here. No matter what the outcome was of that. Dracula’s tender mercies were rarely actually tender, but at least Geralt was sure he wanted to keep Eskel in one piece. And looking at his brother now, all stoned and weak, Geralt was unbearably grateful that Eskel was still whole and most importantly, still _sane_. Kiyan did not have such luck.

“You're okay now,” Geralt said looking at Dracula, trying to express how grateful he was. “We are getting out of here.”

Dracula was moving, coming closer. He seemed untouched by the whole thing, his coat as red as always with the gold trimmings gleaming in the warm light of the lamps. Geralt watched how the strands of his soft hair fell onto his shoulders, how it shined the lamplight, and wanted really badly to tangle his hands in it.

“You saved us,” Dracula purred, now close enough to touch. “And _how_.” The last was said on an exhale, as Dracula wrapped his hand around the back of Geralt’s neck. His claws were prickling carefully at Geralt’s skin, sending shivers of sensation down his back and chasing away any fatigue he might have felt. 

He met the kiss with fervor equal to what Dracula was displaying, all teeth and tongue and fight. Geralt wanted in, wanted deeper and more. With one hand, he snuck under the open coat, spreading his fingers out on the warm, smooth skin. It endlessly fascinated him that Dracula didn’t have a single scar, not one thing to show he used to be a warrior before he became a vampire. 

Geralt moaned into the kiss, his frustration and unfulfilled desire from the earlier encounter with Alucard raising up to the surface. All those potions still raged through him. Adrenaline and enhanced vigor coursed through his veins in equal measure, hardening his cock in moments. He wanted to fuck, wanted to touch, to spend the restless energy somehow. He poured it all into the kiss, licking into Dracula like he couldn’t get enough of him.

So far this whole fiasco had been a frustrating pain in the ass. But Dracula’s mouth was hot and sweet and sharp, and everywhere their skin touched made him want to growl in approval. He could feel just a hint of fang in their kiss, too, and it was with mild shock that Geralt realized that his armor was still open in the front, putting him and Dracula chest to chest together.

With the scent of lust and smoke and power in his nose, and all that hot skin crushed against him, it was hard not to think that the whole event was totally worth it.

\---


	5. Chapter 5

“Guys,” Eskel said plaintively. Since he was still squished against Geralt’s side, he had the ringside seat for the show of Geralt and Dracula going at each other like they wanted to devour each other. “You know the room is still on fire, right?”

Alucard laughed beside him, an unexpectedly free sound.

“Something is definitely on fire here.”

Eskel turned to glare at him balefully. He was already uncomfortably hard in his pants, his knees felt like jelly, and he could smell the lust pouring off of those two thick enough to choke him. He was, quite literally, inches away from rubbing himself against somebody’s body and he was caring less and less whose body it would be.

“The fire is blocking our escape path,” he muttered. And it was. Thick flames licked at the mouth of the only corridor leading out of this wretched lab that smelled like terror and pain.

Alucard looked at him with golden eyes so like Geralt’s but at the same time so different. At some point Eskel stopped noticing the black sclera completely.

“Fire is not a problem,” Alucard said finally and stretched his arm sideways, hand open.

Eskel felt the cold before he saw it. Mist thickened and swirled into a long shape that solidified into the incredible length of Alucard’s sword. It was still in its scabbard and the runes inscribed along its sheath glowing eerie blue.

“The fuck did you do when they came for you that made them so jumpy?” Eskel asked, curious. 

The look Alucard gave him was one of pure annoyance and disgust. “I ended up killing a couple before I realized that they were there to kidnap me as well.” He held his sword a little closer. “They asked for Crissaegrim.”

Eskel snorted in amusement. Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.

“Exactly.” Alucard nodded in agreement. “I sent it away. But then they wanted to know where it went.” He curled his lips up into a snarl and the muscles in his jaw jumped. The sigh that followed was pained. “So I told them it was an illusion. There was no sword. I was unarmed.”

“And they bought that shit?” Eskel boggled. Then he remembered Dracula’s incredibly fake gasps of dismay, and how Steingard just ate it up. “Oh Gods. Why. How.”

“I guess people see what they want to see.” Alucard looked to Geralt and Dracula still making out like they wouldn’t get another chance ever again. “And Steingard wanted to see a victim.”

“Or maybe he was just used to seeing victims,” Eskel said grumpily, remembering how he ended up there in the first place. Even that dissatisfaction was short lived. Alucard’s power still ran through him, making everything bad seem distant and unimportant.

He ran a hand up and down Dracula’s coat. It felt so soft and warm against his palm. Not as nice as Alucard’s coat, but still wonderful. 

Alucard smiled, a tiny almost-smirk, and affixed the sheathed sword to the many belts criss crossing his hips. Then he took a step back, put his other hand on the handle, and drew the impossible blade in one smooth move so practiced it barely made a sound. In that same move he slashed his sword. Glowing cold blue light and frost trailed in its wake. The blue light arched out from the slash in a wide half circle, filling the air with a nose tingling scent of a high mountain winter. The temperature dropped so rapidly that goosebumps rose up on Eskel’s skin. Wherever the shockwave of that slash touched, the flames were extinguished so completely even the ashes didn’t smoke, and thin layer of frost covered everything in the path of that energy.

Alucard sheathed his sword with the same expertise that he pulled it out with, the blade barely touching the sheath as it slid home. Eskel liked that obvious mastery of the blade. Now he was kind of kicking himself for not asking to spar while they were at Kaer Morhen. 

“I wanna touch your sword.” Eskel paused, thinking through that statement one more time. “No. Wait. That’s not. I mean, we should fight.” Another pause. Fuck, he was screwing this up. He wanted to rub his face with a hand, but currently one hand was slung over Geralt’s shoulder and the other was twined in Dracula’s coat. Both of those things were so wonderful feeling that it wasn’t worth it to try and rub his eyes.

Not with a hand anyways. He could still rub his face on Dracula’s shoulder. 

So he did. 

And it was just as great as he thought it would be. So warm and soft against his cheek. There was something else, too. Some energy. It wasn’t like Alucard’s, but it was similar enough that it tingled along his senses like fresh, warm rain. 

“I mean, you handle your blade well. I’d love to train with you, someday, if you want.” There. That was it. He sighed happily, and pulled both Geralt and Dracula a little closer.

“I trained double swords too,” Alucard said coyly.

“Really?” Eskel perked up a bit at that. “Witchers do that, too, but not many others do. Vesemir is better than I am, I think, but I’m fair. I’d love to see you fight.” 

“It’s a date,” Alucard promised with a wry smile.

“What date?” Geralt asked, pulling out of the kiss suddenly and looking from Alucard to Eskel.

“To show Eskel my techniques,” Alucard answered. “He wanted to touch my sword.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at Alucard, but Eskel leaned heavily onto him and nodded. It was hard pulling away from Dracula’s shoulder, but it made sense. He should make an effort to look up. Probably. Maybe for a second or two. Then back to Dracula’s shoulder. “I don’t have any swords anymore, but I’m pretty sure you three are gonna be fucking for the next week solid anyways, so.” He kind of shrugged. “Have you see him handle that thing, Geralt? Amazing.”

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t.” Geralt looked at Alucard speculatively.

“We could watch together,” Eskel said dreamily.

This time Alucard laughed out loud.

“I don’t think Geralt can stop himself from touching my…sword, if he does watch.”

Eskel tsked at him. “Have some self control, man. No touching until invited.” For some reason, this made Alucard laugh again.

Although, it stood to reason that Alucard would probably be pretty happy with Geralt touching anything of his. Eskel shook his head, trying to clear it. The scents in the room were getting to him, hurting his nose and bringing back things he was trying very hard not to think about. 

“Can we leave now?” he asked plaintively. 

“Yes.” Geralt stepped away from Dracula and passed Eskel to Alucard again. Eskel went easily. Alucard was nice.

There was a bit of shifting after that, but Eskel found himself on Alucard’s back again. Perfect for burying his face into Alucard’s hair. He let the scent of fur, frost, and blood fill up his nose, blocking out everything else. The fabric under him sent shivers up and down his whole body; it felt so damn good. Again, he was vaguely ashamed of how dirty he was, but most of him was caught up in the bliss of touching Alucard all over. The way he was held also not-so-convienently rubbed his groin right up into Alucard’s back every time they took a step. While that was really very nice, it was also not very good _at all_ , and should probably stop very soon. He couldn’t bring himself to object though. Much easier just to relax and let Alucard carry him.

It turned out that they were not far away from the main entrance. Just three flights of circular stairs that made Eskel dizzy. The stairs let out into a perfectly ordinary looking kitchen, with bread and some cheeses still sitting on the counters. There were cups scattered around, some abandoned and overturned, some still full on the table under the opposite wall. 

Geralt stopped them right before a beam of golden sunset light that shined in from the window. He turned and looked worriedly back at them. Alucard had stopped by at the stairs entrance with Eskel, clearly unwilling to go into the kitchen and its light. His reluctance wasn’t shared, though. Dracula stepped directly into the sunbeam. Its warm light only made him look even more pallid. His jaw was tight and Eskel could see he was unhappy about standing there. 

Eskel couldn’t believe the bastards who tortured him for so long were having a nice meal of bread and cheese just a couple floors above where he was slowly starving.

“Fuck, I wish I could burn this damn building down,” Eskel said quietly, still rubbing his cheek into Alucard’s shoulder. “I’d hate to set the rest of the city on fire, but…” A shudder crawled up his spine and he hid his face in Alucard’s neck. “Fuck this place. I hate it.”

He felt movement and looked up to see Alucard staring wordlessly at Dracula. Geralt was looking between his two lovers with obvious mounting worry.

“It’s day still,” Geralt said in a plaintive kind of voice. 

Dracula turned his face towards Geralt slightly, but he never took his eyes away from Alucard. Shivers raced down Eskel’s back at the way they looked at each other.

“Is it?” Dracula asked mildly, raising an open palm above his head.

The scent of Dracula’s power, the aroma of fresh burning embers and blood thickened in the air, so heavy it was hard to breathe. Slowly, Dracula curled his fingers into a fist and then jerked it down in a sharp, slashing motion that broke the mounting tension like a knife.

The light flooding from the kitchen window fled like it had never been, and shadows around them deepened until darkness spread over the room. Through the window outside, Eskel could see the sliver of previously reddish sky boil with clouds black as tar, so thick and heavy they looked as if they were about to touch the ground any second. Stunned and terrified calls the people out in the streets filtered through the brick and wood of the walls, along with the pounding of rushing footsteps. All he could do was stare at that ever darkening sky.

“Now,” Dracula said turning to the window. “I believe you wanted to see some fire.”

“Cast your shields,” Alucard said. He let Eskel slide down to the floor, pulled him in close to his side, and backed up a step. “Now!”

Eskel might have been stoned out of his mind but he was still a trained witcher. The adrenaline that had added his focus in Geralt’s fight with Steingard flooded into his system again, and he was casting Quen before the last sound faded from his ears. 

Time seemed to slow then as everything happened in the same instant. Geralt’s own shield flickered to life around him. Dracula tossed his head back and _screamed_ , the banked red of his eyes spilling like molten fire as his form burst into boiling shadows. 

Only it wasn't the mist of before; it was thick and heavy, boiling out and out, gaining mass, presence, and weight. Out of the drowning darkness a tip of a wing emerged. One flap was powerful enough that it sent the heavy furniture crashing and splintering against the farthest wall. Eskel’s shield glowed with the damage it absorbed from the shrapnel. Another flap and now he could see more of the wing; the armored scales looked like burned out coals and there were veins of liquid fire running between them. 

The outside wall crumbled like a sand castle. Bricks and glass fell outwards a the huge dragon emerged from the ever boiling shadows. Its wings beat furiously as it gained altitude and its long tail lashed behind it, taking out another bit of the building and sending an avalanche of bricks and roof tiles to the cobblestones outside.

It soared up into the sky, black as night. The shining red veins that threaded through the dark scales glowed brilliantly, framed by the boiling dark clouds all around the beast. Its head was pointed up, long and streamlined, and it had short, smooth horns adorning the armored arch of its head. 

Then it turned, facing down. Its red eyes were so bright that they looked like double comets in the air. A scream of pure rage erupted as it opened its vicious-looking maw wide. Then brilliant, red fire boiled down on them, falling like a slow motion waterfall. It obscured everything. The sheer incandescence of that flame briefly blinded Eskel and made his retinas burn.

He hurried to recast his Quen, trying to build the shield as strong as he possibly could. Geralt was close enough that he included him into it, layering their shields together. 

From out of the corner of his eye he could see Alucard raise his armored forearm. White light poured out of it and layered over Eskel’s Quen shield.

Then armageddon came. 

The fire hit them like a ton of bricks, like a tangibile weight. Eskel could feel the earth shake with the impact and the layered shields flashed as unbearable heat exploded right into their faces. Stones and mortar all around them just _melted_ under the hit, turning to nothing but ash. The staircase behind them was vaporized and the ground fell down into itself as the dragon fire ate down to the basement levels. Burning ash floated in the air, thick and choking.

Then the dragon fire died out as suddenly as it came, leaving devastation in its wake. The only bits of untouched ground were where their shields covered. Everything else was just gone. Nothing left but a hole in the ground made of charred ash, embers, and heat so intense that it warped the air.

The Dragon screamed again, fierce and so enraged that Eskel teeth ached with it. Its wings beat again, one solid, vast movement, and it rocketed down towards the ground with heedless speed. Eskel cast Quen for a third time, sure that the beast would crush them under its weight, but just before it touched the ground it exploded into thick, boiling shadows. The twisting plume of dark energy pushed past them like a shockwave of an explosion, and Eskel couldn’t help but flinch back. 

When Eskel blinked his eyes open, stinging and half blind from the ash and the heat, Dracula was standing where the dragon should have hit. The fire was just dying out of his eyes, turning them dark and soft again.

“Time to go,” Dracula announced and made another slashing motion with his arm. 

“Gods,” Eskel whispered. Whatever calming influence Alucard’s power had over him was no match for his sheer awe and terror. He clung to Alucard’s shoulders, his eyes wide and mouth parted. However Geralt or Alucard had reacted, he couldn’t even tell. All of his focus was on Dracula. 

There was something achingly familiar about the scent of the burning earth around them. That’s when he realized it was an iteration of Dracula’s normal burning scent. The smell of smouldering rage and darkness.

In front of Dracula a jagged slash appeared in the air. The sheer power of that magic was so thick in the air that his medallion felt as if it was going to shatter from how hard it was vibrating. The black slash in the air grew, expanding slowly. It didn’t look like any portal he’d ever seen a mage use. No. It looked as if somebody was tearing the very fabric of their reality apart, forcing something else to appear there.

It wasn’t a perfect circle of a teleport, or even the arching doorways that sorceresses sometimes created. It was more like a jagged tear that leaked darkness in every direction. A corridor was just barely visible on the other side. The floor there was lined with plush red carpet, blue lights hung on the walls on both sides, and massive sculptures framed by alcoves in the distance.

“Come on.” That was Geralt, tugging at Eskel and forcing him and Alucard to move. Dracula himself was already stepping through the portal.

Eskel had no idea if he stumbled through on his own, or if he was pushed through. All he knew was that he fell to his knees on a polished stone floor. His fingers dug into plush carpet, and all of his senses reeled with the sudden change of location. Everything smelled differently, sounded differently. His whole body was telling him he was somewhere _else_ , and it was overwhelming.

All the adrenaline that coursed through his body was at war with the energy inside of him, making him dizzy and shaky. 

He’d always known how powerful Dracula was, but it was an abstract thing. Actually seeing it firsthand was staggering. 

When he turned to look back, there was no sign of the portal at all, just a long corridor stretching out into darkness. Geralt and Alucard were leaning over him, their hands on him, trying to pull him upright.

He shook his head at them. 

“Sorry,” he said, roughly. He fucking hated how weak he was being. But he still needed the help to stand. 

The moment Alucard touched him, he felt better. That power singing inside of him settled with the contact, and dragged him forcefully back into a state of calm. Or relative calm at least. 

He breathed in Alucard’s scent and tried pull his mind together. 

Dracula had just destroyed that whole goddamn building. Burned it down to the fucking bedrock. Like it was nothing. The terror at this was a distant thing, now, and hard on its heels was a vicious pleasure. He’d wanted the place burned down, and now it really, really was. 

When he looked up at Dracula, the man was looking exactly like normal. No sign of distress or effort on him. His coat was just as red and his chest bare, the gold embroidery adding a little color to his pale skin. He was looking down at Eskel with banked red eyes that Eskel couldn’t read.

“Was the destruction to your satisfaction?”

Eskel paused and licked his lips, trying to organize his thoughts. He looked into Dracula’s eyes and said, “You continue to absolutely terrify me, and if I was interested in fucking you, I’d kiss you right now.” He looked over Dracula’s body once more, verifying that nothing seemed out of place. Then he leaned in, wrapping one hand around Dracula’s shoulders and letting his head rest there, right in its usual spot in the crook of Dracula’s neck. He breathed in the now familiar scent of blood, power, and fire, and let it calm his racing heart. “Thank you.”

Dracula put his hand on Eskel’s back, warm and heavy.

“It was my pleasure,” Dracula assured him, holding Eskel close. 

Eskel melted into that warm embrace, suddenly overcome by how fucking grateful he was to be gone from that dungeon. It was destroyed. So thoroughly fucking slagged that the hole that was left would probably be abandoned as a cursed place. He couldn’t bring himself to be the least bit annoyed by that. 

He shook a little bit, a fine trembling that escalated into a full body shiver. It really was all done. He was free. Steingard was dead. No more daily beatings. No more pain. No more starving. No more poisons or tables. No more chains. 

This was hardly the first time Eskel had been in dire straits. It wasn’t even the first time he’d been tortured. But it was the first time he didn’t mind showing his weakness to those around him. Dracula had already seen worse, and Alucard and Geralt wouldn’t mind. 

Alucard was beside him; his hand wrapped around Eskel’s neck, skin to skin. The power inside of Eskel reacted to that touch, settling and calming him down, pushing the emotions under a layer of heavy bliss. He would have to deal with them eventually he knew, but for now he welcomed the relief.

“You are not alone,” Dracula said with more compassion than Eskel expected out of him. There was understanding in him. A knowledge and acceptance that made Eskel realize that Dracula was acting so understanding because he went through that himself. He had been alone and afraid, and was once himself in a situation where despair was his only companion.

Eskel thought back to the dragon, to the rage it personified, and realized that for Dracula there never was any help or comfort. From the scraps of information he heard, he pieced together that Dracula entered Hell as a human and whatever happened to him then was what created the man before him.

“You aren’t alone anymore either,” Eskel whispered, almost afraid to say anything. He didn’t know how Dracula would react to such a thing. The man seemed to care nothing for himself. His only concerns seemed to be that Geralt and Alucard were taken care of. 

But it was true. Dracula had Alucard and Geralt…but he had Eskel now as well. Eskel knew himself well enough to know that he’d help if Dracula needed anything. That it would be worth it to do so. Despite all of his misgivings and justified worries, he was really starting to like Dracula being nearby. 

In many ways, Dracula was beyond what Eskel could grasp. But there was also a tangibile humanity to him, more than Dracula himself probably wanted to admit. There was compassion to him still, more than Eskel saw in many humans, as well as humor, if a little dark, and love, so much love for Alucard and Geralt. Eskel had no idea how someone as dark as Dracula could love so fiercely, and for all his possessiveness, so sweetly.

Dracula touched Eskel’s face with two fingers.

“You witchers are an extraordinary bunch.” There was a tingle of power in Dracula’s touch. “You are making me care about you whether I want it or no.”

That made Eskel huff in amusement. He smiled a bit, thinking of all the towns he’d ever been run out of. “We’re an odd group.”

“We are a stinky group,” Geralt chimed in. When Eskel looked at him, he saw Geralt trying to unsuccessfully wipe away the splattered… _stuff_ that Steingard had thrown at him during the fight.

“Oh Gods,” Eskel said with a deep, heartfelt longing. “You have no idea how much it’s been driving me crazy. Fucking dungeons.” He looked up to Dracula, eyes wide and hopeful. “Are there baths here? Touching all of you feels shockingly good, but I am honestly amazed you can all tolerate it. I’m getting you all dirty just by standing near you. I’m sullying you just by touching you.”

He shook his head and frowned, suddenly frustrated with himself. It wasn’t even just about the dirt and the dried blood. What were these people even doing with him? He was just a witcher, and not even a famous one like Geralt. He was competent, sure, and familiar enough with those who used power that he wasn’t often fazed by it. But Dracula and Alucard were so far out of his league it was baffling. 

The contact high from Alucard still sang through him, though, so his dissatisfaction didn’t last. Soon enough he melted back into the hands on him with a happy sigh. 

“You better get us to the baths,” Geralt said to Dracula. “Or we will end up wandering the castle for hours.”

Eskel wrinkled his brow in confusion. Was this place really that large? Where even were they? 

“Castle?” he asked. He’d heard stories about Dracula’s impossible castle. Geralt had spoken of the beautiful halls and strange gardens, while Ciri had pointed out the whole place was both sentient and _demonically possessed_. Or, as Yennefer speculated, a demon itself.

Then again. Kaer Morhen was demonically possessed now, too, and the only changes Eskel had noticed were a nicer bathing area and friendly succubi wandering around. It really made him wonder what this place would be like.

Dracula snorted, somehow sounding both amused and exasperated.

“Baths it is then,” he said, turning towards the nearest door and pushing it open.

The moment the heavy door opened, Eskel felt like he’d run face first into a wall of steam. The air was scented heavily with minerals and fragrant perfumes, soaps and herbs, so powerful that it was almost enough to overwhelm his sense of smell. 

He blinked, surprised. He should have smelled that before they even got close to the door; so much dampness and perfume couldn't possibly be held in by the wooden door. 

When Dracula pushed again, flinging the door open all the way, Eskel got a good look inside. The pool beyond that doorway was enormous, and its steaming water was murky with minerals. The edges of the pool were littered with little alcoves that were lined with neatly folded towels. At the far end of the pool, twin waterfalls delivered more water down, and floating on the surface of the water were wooden trays filled to bursting with little vials, herbal soaps, and even more towels and washcloths. The walls around the pool were thickly adorned with statues of naked women and demons twining together in indecent poses, their mouths open in ecstasy.

“Oh thank the Gods,” Eskel said under his breath, and immediately began struggling to take off his filthy top. 

The effort was somewhat hampered by his lack of coordination, not to mention his inability to let go of Dracula’s coat. It felt too good under his hand, and the buzzing, floating energy inside of him still cried out for the contact.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. Moving had been a hell of a lot easier back in Steingard’s lab, with the adrenaline of battle racing through him. But right now the power filling him up had nothing to fight against, and even standing up seemed difficult.

Before he could get well and truly tangled, Alucard stepped over to help him out. 

“Hmm, I think you need a helping hand,” Dracula said, watching the struggle. 

There was another door in the room. A door Eskel was certain wasn’t there just a moment ago. Two women entered through it.

Eskel blinked and reassessed. Two _succubi_ entered. The one on the right had the body of a goddess, with heavy breasts exquisitely outlined under the sheer white silk barely hiding them, wide hips, and legs long enough to make his heart skip a beat. She had long golden hair the color of ripe wheat and pale golden eyes. Daintily curved horns, light brown in color, arched out of her golden hair and curved gently down behind her ears. Her skin was honey gold, and her arms and ankles were adorned with multiple gold bracelets. 

The one on the left was a familiar face. Iga. She was as blond as her companion. Her skin was rosy, and her eyes were dark brown. She smiled widely at him in welcome. The shift she was dressed in was a dark red silk; the cloth was so thin he could see the shape of her nipples under it and upper swell of her breasts pushed at the neckline. Her bracelets were also gold, and green stones were set into the jewelry.

As absolutely relieved as he was to see them, a small shiver of unease rippled up his spine. He watched them come up to Dracula and kneel down in unison, folding gracefully to the floor with bent heads as they chorused, “My Prince.”

“Can I still touch you two?” he asked Dracula and Alucard, a little shy and worried. His body ached to be held in Alucard’s arms. Dracula’s energy was similar enough that it felt almost as good. He knew it was just the power inside of him crying to get back to its master, but the idea of being out of range from either of the vampires made him shudder. “Until...oh shit.” Eskel rubbed his face, suddenly realizing that he’d be stoned and horny until the power wore off in a couple weeks, or Alucard fed from him. Which was never going to fucking happen.

Geralt was looking at him, confusion clear on his face.

“You want to…” Geralt trailed off and then made a vaguely obscene gesture with his hands. “With us?” He didn’t look particularly happy, but there was clear worry in his eyes as he watched Eskel. Honestly, that was probably the only thing tempering his jealousy right now.

Eskel growled in frustration. “Gods, no, I really, really don’t. But there was a poisoned potion and the only thing keeping me from puking out my organs is their power healing me. But holy fuck I need to touch them.” He couldn’t stop himself from leaning into Alucard’s body. They hadn’t managed to get his shirt off yet, and Eskel deeply mourned this fact. More skin would be amazing right now. “I’m going crazy with it. Fuck, I almost wish I did want to fuck you all. It would make this easier.”

“Oh!” Geralt started going through a pouch that he’d already taken off along with his sword harness. The whole pile of gear had been put on one of the heavily carved, dark wood tables that lined the wall near the door. After some clinking sounds and one muttered curse, he pulled out a small bottle. “Got it! I thought I had one with me, yes.”

“What is that?” Alucard asked, looking at the bottle Geralt held in his extended hand.

“White Honey potion. It neutralizes…well, everything.”

“Is it safe?”

Geralt moved up right beside Eskel, who had only just managed to open his top. His skin crawled with the need to be clean.

“I don’t care,” Eskel said reaching for the offered bottle. 

“Maybe we should---” Alucard started.

But Eskel wasn’t listening. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, gave it a customary sniff just to make sure it really was White Honey, and then downed it in two swallows.

It slid down his throat like the honey it was named for, sweet and thick. He could feel it spread through his body like a cool wave. Whatever Steingard had shoved down his throat must have been affecting him still, even through Alucard’s power, because sweet relief filled him up. Like a muscle that had been clenched too long had just relaxed. Euphoria bubbled through him and he sagged against Alucard. 

“Yay, not poisoned,” he rasped out. 

He could feel Alucard shaking his head. “You witchers don’t know the meaning of caution, do you.”

“Caution is for the weak,” Eskel said, and Geralt chorused him perfectly. They grinned at each other, and memories of driving Vesemir insane with their exploits raced through his head. From the way Geralt looked, it was obvious he was thinking of the same things.

“What is wrong with you?” Geralt asked after a moment when Eskel only managed to slump more against Alucard in his search for contact. “You look even more stoned than you did before.”

“It’s Alucard’s power inside him,” Dracula said, coming closer to touch the top of Eskel's head. Gods, the touch felt good. Eskel slumped sideways, trying to get Dracula to touch him more while not letting go of the ground he gained with Alucard.

“Feels so nice,” Eskel mumbled. “Dracula’s is harder. Makes me wanna fuck. Donno how you’re not mad, Geralt. Or dead. Alucard’s…” He trailed off, and sighed. 

He almost mourned the fact that this would be over soon. Then he’d have to go back to never touching anyone. At least until Alucard got lonely anyways.

Geralt stared at Eskel with narrowed eyes until suddenly understanding lit his face. Soon after that came envy.

“You shared power with him!” Geralt said looking at Alucard with outrage. “You didn’t do it with me!”

“Don’t get your armor in a bunch. He didn’t know how.” Eskel looked up to Dracula hopefully, eyeing the hand on his head. Maybe he’d start with the scratching again. That was heavenly.

“Outside of penetrative sex, only a bite can drain the excess energy out. For Eskel, anyways. He is different than you after all,” Dracula rumbled quietly, petting Eskel again. That was just perfect. He could keep doing that forever, as far as Eskel was concerned. “You take me much better,” Dracula concluded, sounding immeasurably fond.

Eskel chanced a look at Geralt, who looked torn. “What?” 

“I don't know which I’m more jealous of. The power sharing or the fact Dracula has been biting you on the sly.” Geralt said with that same sour expression on his face.

“Most awkward way ever to not breathe bone chips, I promise you.” Eskel kind of wanted to sound sarcastic, but the best he managed was a happy sigh. “You have any idea how fucking difficult it was _not_ to ask for sex? For fuck’s sake, Geralt. I did my best.”

“I know,” Geralt sighed. “You going to bite him again now?” Geralt looked to Dracula, and so did Eskel.

Dracula smiled with just the corner of his lips. His eyes were already half lidded.

“I’m confident I can drain Alucard’s power out of you,” Dracula’s hand slowly curled into Eskel’s hair, gaining a solid grip. Even that small pull felt amazingly good.

“Clean. Can we be clean?” Eskel asked. 

As much as he very deeply wanted to be clear headed again, he was about fucking done with being so damn dirty. Besides, if this was the last time Dracula was going to drink from him, Eskel kind of wanted it to be a better experience for the vampire. He hated feeling so woefully inadequate. 

Under normal circumstances, Eskel was a confident lover. He’d had enough practice, after all. But this wasn’t really the same kind of situation, though the intimacy of the actions was similar. The whole situation was a tangle of confusion for him, and Eskel wasn’t sure quite how to react. It made a mire of self-doubts claw up into his head and roost there. The biggest of which, at the moment, was how awful he felt. Underneath the bliss that sustained him was the bleak understanding that he wasn’t anywhere near his top form. Like the utter foulness of where he’d been held had somehow ground itself into his skin. 

Like he’d said earlier. He wouldn’t want to touch himself, why would anyone else? And then add in the fact that they _had_ to touch him, just to keep him from losing his mind. 

The whole thing made him twitchy. 

But Dracula just laughed. “If you think you can persevere without losing control of you desires.”

That was the question, wasn’t it. 

“I think…” He took a moment to gauge himself. The ridiculous lust was there, but it was still a somewhat distant thing. Just keeping in contact, as much as possible seemed to be the overwhelming drive. “No trying to get me off. No, uh...” A painfully hot blush scored across his face. This was incredibly awkward and embarrassing, though Eskel got the feeling that neither Dracula nor Alucard actually cared much. “No sexual touching.” Dracula, the bastard, laughed again. “I think I’ll be alright. Alucard’s power is softer.”

He didn’t know how to describe it. And then the feel of Dracula still petting his hair made his thoughts float away for a moment. His eyes drifted halfway closed and he leaned into the movement. 

“Help with his clothes,” Dracula said and both succubi rose from their knees and turned to Eskel.

“Hi there,” Iga purred as she circled around Dracula, very careful not to touch either him or Alucard. Her hands landed on Eskel’s shoulders, looking for a good grip on the open armor he still had on. The moment she came close, he shuddered. Her smell reached him, filling his nose with the scent of a woman, and _interested woman_ , and his hyped up body surged to attention.

“Ah yes,” Eskel groaned and side-eyed Dracula. “How could I forget that you’re a sadist.”

Both Alucard and Geralt snorted in amusement. 

Eskel shifted, regretfully pulling away from Alucard and letting Iga pull the filthy leather and cloth shirt from him. He shuddered with relief when the moist air of the bath touched his skin. So close to being clean.

“I can’t wait to wash all this stuff off myself,” he moaned.

“What is that?” Geralt asked, pointing at Eskel’s chest.

Alucard reached out his hand, fingers stopping just a hair's breadth away from the triangular mark. His lips were open in a small ‘o’ of surprise.

“Proof that I’m a fucking idiot.” Eskel looked down at the mark on his chest and ran a hand over where it lay on top of his heart. The oddest sensation ghosted over his skin, like the mark really was tied to his heart and he’d be able to reach into his body and pluck at the strings there, if only he had the ability. It was both unsettling and strangely comforting. Dracula would not forget him. Not for as long as the world lasted. 

Alucards fingers glowed, just barely. The glow felt warm on Eskel’s skin, pleasant in the way Alucard’s power felt in general, really. After a second the glow died out and Alucard transferred his gaze to Dracula.

“Really?” There was a wry twist to his lips as he looked pointedly at Dracula.

Dracula shrugged.

“We came to an agreement.”

Alucard looked back at Eskel.

“I hope you got your money’s worth,” he sighed, letting the power dissipate from his fingers.

Eskel’s face twisted in confusion and he stared at Alucard. His money’s worth? 

“Huh?” The hell was Alucard talking about. Dracula was paying him for this whole little game. “Oh, I’m going to get mine, don’t you worry,” he said, already imagining the kind of swords and upgrades he could get. He could even try and go for some of the elven upgrades he rarely had the money to buy. 

“Hmm, paying for it, aren't you.” Alucard looked at Dracula again, his voice strangely dry.

“Of course I do,” Dracula murmured. “We made a deal after all.”

The whole exchange had Geralt frowning at them. His eyes narrowed as he glanced back and forth between them all. 

“Paying?” he asked eventually.

“Swords and armor,” Dracula said obligingly, pointing to where Geralt’s swords were resting on the table. “His were lost.”

“In exchange for a few extra days of torture.” Eskel stared off into nothing for a moment, thinking about how his wrists had swelled up into the chains and his knees had given out. With Alucard at his back, Dracula’s hand on his head, and the floating buzz of energy under his skin, he couldn’t feel the faintest bit of upset about it. Soon, though, he would. Later, when he was alone he could have a proper breakdown about it. He blinked hard and looked at Geralt. “Enjoy your rescue sex. Just please don’t tell me about it.”

Geralt folded his arms in front of himself and mock glared at Eskel.

“Right now it looks like I’m not the one about to have sex here.” He looked at Dracula and Alucard, and the two succubi now trying to work Eskel’s pants open. The laces were stuck together with his blood and the filth of the dungeon.

“Gods, I cannot wait to be clean,” Eskel said under his breath. 

Geralt shook his head.

“You are stealing the show, Eskel,” he grumbled and unfolded his arms. Then he shrugged his jacket off, exposing where his chest was just now starting to collect new scars, fresh and pink, after whatever Dracula did to heal him from the ones he had before.

“If you’re worried about them watching me, maybe you should do something to make them watch you.” Eskel raised his eyebrows. Then paused. And then he covered his face with his hand. “Why, why, why did I say that, oh Gods, the hell is wrong with me.”

Geralt grinned.

“Maybe you have been secretly lusting after me after all?”

“I will stab you,” Eskel said flatly.

Geralt showed even more teeth in his grin.

“Fuck, nooo, that’s not. No. _No_. I didn’t mean! Oh Gods, why is this my life.” He couldn’t even look at them. All he could do was burn with embarrassment. “Just go drown me in the pool there, now, thanks.”

“Calm down,” Dracula said with a tangibile thread of amusement. “You already were so close to me and Alucard, getting closer acquainted with Geralt shouldn’t be much of a reach.”

Eskel turned betrayed eyes towards Dracula.

“You had to say that,” he said, and took a shuddery breath. He was starting to feel the lack of pain. The sudden elevation of his euphoria made it significantly harder to keep his lust at bay. His skin felt hot, his cock was hard in his pants, and every time one of the girls tugged at the laces to loosen them, the leather pressed deliciously against it. With the White Honey counteracting the poison and his natural healing boosted up by the power coursing through his veins now, it was starting to become difficult to think of anything but sex.

Hell, even Geralt looked good for that now.

Eskel closed his eyes and groaned. Clean. He’d be clean soon. 

The laces on his pants gave finally and he could feel Iga starting to push them down, exposing him to the warm, moist air. The other girl knelt down by his legs, all grace and seduction, and touched his shin, starting to work on his boots.

“What’s your name,” he asked, staring down at her. Really, he was looking at the rounded flare of her butt under the white silk shift and the mass of golden hair falling off her.

“Eyra,” she said with a smile and licked her lips. Fuck, but Eskel could smell how interested she was, how ready. _Fuck_. He was going to die if he didn’t get some relief soon.

There was a loud splash and when he looked up, he saw Geralt’s head pop up from the water. He was the first one to get naked and into the pool.

“I did all the work,” Geralt called out to them. “I deserve _somebody_ to be grateful!”

“Oh poor witcher,” Eskel said, rolling his eyes. “So put upon.”

“He is right though,” Dracula said softly, his voice all darkness and heat. “He did all the work.” 

“I helped,” Eskel grumbled, but his annoyance was half-hearted at best. He was feeling too good to really be irritated at anything for long.

But Dracula was already walking away, passing Eskel and moving towards the edge of the pool. As he moved, his clothes flaked away into slivers of darkness, drifting off of him like undulating smoke. Not more than four steps away and he was left gloriously naked. 

He was powerfully built, more like a brawler than a swordsman, and Eskel wondered what kind of weapon he preferred for this kind of muscle to develop. He couldn't help but be attracted to the powerful back, the thighs and long legs. Damn, but Dracula looked good as he walked into the pool. The edge of bath there rapidly reformed into a series of steps just before he reached it, giving him an easy entrance into the water.

Once Dracula had stepped away, Eskel had a chance to look up to Alucard. “I told Dracula that I’d tell you that he was very nice. And he was. More than I expected. Still a sadist. And both terrifying and frustrating. But also nice.”

Alucard laughed at him, but without any malice.

“I will remember that you called him a nice sadist,” Alucard said.

Alucard touched Eskel’s arm. The bliss of that contact was exquisite, softening his knees, and almost making him fall. Alucard gripped him hard, keeping him upright, and Eskel’s whole body pulsed slowly with the pleasure of that touch, skin tingling and flushing.

“You feel very nice.” Eskel’s voice slurred a little. “Fuck, I see why you’re so cuddly. That’s quite nice, too.”

“Let’s get you into the water,” Alucard murmured softly. “You are naked now.”

Eskel blinked his eyes open and looked down at himself. 

He _was_ naked.

The succubi divested him of his clothes somewhere along the way. Pants, boots, everything was gone. Briefly, he stared at his own hard cock, firm and swollen between his legs, but couldn't muster the energy to feel ashamed. Everything felt so good, too good. Except the dirt. The dirt definitely didn’t feel good.

He nodded and tried to stagger off towards the pool. Happily, Alucard followed along with him, keeping him upright as they went. 

The moment his skin touched the water, Eskel wanted to melt right into it. Whatever motivation had gotten him to the bathing pool completely and utterly fled him, and he felt himself go boneless. 

Somehow he ended up chest deep in the water, resting on a bench along the edge of the pool. Alucard’s hand was still on his neck, keeping him steady. The tang of minerals and soaps tickled at his nose, and blessed heat filled him up.

Then there was a splash. Iga was coming up to him in the water, naked as the day she was born, her high breasts rosy from the hot water and nipples dark and perky. She held a soapy washcloth in her hands.

“Eyra will help with your hair,” she purred, sliding in closer and putting the warm, soapy cloth on his arm. He moaned at the feel of it running over his skin, visibly taking all the filth away. He barely flinched at the water being poured over his head. Much easier just to close his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. Hot water, then cool shampoo and strong female hands digging hard into his scalp, awakening the shivers again.

Faint noises floated by from nearby in the pool. Gentle little splashes and soft exhalations. Whatever Dracula was doing to Geralt, Eskel did not want to know, but he wished them a good time of it. He was content to just hold his eyes closed and let Iga and Eyra gently scrub him clean. The fact that Alucard kept his hand on Eskel the whole time helped immensely. Sometimes it stayed at his neck. Occasionally, it drifted down his arm, petting him.

That extra measure of calm was especially nice once Iga settled herself between his legs and carefully began cleaning his cock. Each slow, gentle pass of her washcloth was absolute torture. It took everything he had to stay still for it, to not buck into that wonderful hold. He was very much reminded of the first time Dracula fed on him. How he struggled to stay still, fighting the pleasure that washed through him. 

He could do this. He could hold out just a while longer.

“This is torture,” he moaned finally, his hand locked on Alucard’s.

“Do you want to end it?” Alucard asked quietly. Eskel couldn’t answer for a while, because Iga chose that moment to switch from his cock to his balls, cupping them with that slick, soapy cloth and rubbing. All Eskel could do was clench his teeth and pant. It was torture yes, but it was also exquisite torture.

When he blinked his eyes open again and managed to focus them on Alucard, he realized that Alucard’s hair soaked up the water. Only the very top of his head was dry. The rest was clung to his naked chest in wet tendrils. The lack of sheer…volume...his hair usually had made him look even younger, even prettier. It only served to highlight his high cheekbones and the pale skin that just now started to get a little bit of flush from the hot water. 

He was beautiful. 

Eskel knew he needed the energy drained from him before he did or said something he would eventually regret, but it was so hard to say anything, do anything but feel. Alucard’s presence turned the lust into pure bliss, into pleasure itself. The way the succubi touched him, slow and careful, was only driving the pleasure higher, turning it more sexual. He was slowly losing his mind here. This debauchery, this pleasure and desire, this hunger that felt like it could never be sated wasn’t anything Eskel had known before. He had no idea how Alucard lived with it, or how Geralt managed it. It was too much for him. The last sober part of his mind was afraid, terrified really, of how easy it would be to lose himself in this carnal pleasure.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”

“I’ll get Father for you,” Alucard said, and pulled away from Eskel. 

The loss felt like a punch to the chest, like freezing water being poured into his lungs, and he gasped. Almost in unison the succubi moved. Eyra finished pouring water on his hair, washing it out for the third time, and slid into the water beside him, cuddling up to his right side. Her breasts, slick and wet, pressed against his shoulder and her hair gained a reddish tint from being damp. Iga fit herself against his left side, with her arms around his chest and lips against his biceps. They held him tight, their legs tangling with his. It felt good. Better than being alone, certainly, but nowhere near as good as it felt when Alucard touched him. 

Eskel watched, dazed, as Alucard waded over to where Geralt and Dracula were entwined. Dracula’s hands were suspiciously invisible under the murky surface of the water. His dark hair was wet, clinging to his shoulders and neck, and making him look strangely vulnerable. The way the locks parted showed off the pale length of his neck. They were kissing, tangled up so tightly Eskel didn't think they let up even to breathe. Geralt was holding on to Dracula’s shoulders, one hand still clutching a forgotten washcloth. They were kissing like this was the last time they would ever do it, hungry and hard, with their mouths open to each other and their chests pressed together tightly.

When Alucard got to them, he kissed Dracula’s shoulder first. His hand gently slid over that powerful, unscarred back. Then he fit himself against both Geralt and Dracula, and they let up on the tight clutch and admitted him in. The three of them exchanged kisses for a moment. First Dracula, then Geralt kissing Alucard. It looked easy. They looked so relaxed and sure of their welcome. Happy. 

Alucard murmured softly, too soft for Eskel to really make out. He only caught the movement of his jaw. Then Dracula nodded and turning towards Eskel. As he waded away, Alucard wrapped himself around Geralt. Both of them turned, clearly set to watch what was going to happen. It sent another frisson of lust up his back.

That should not be as sexy a thought as it was, but Gods damn it, he was so horny. So filled with lust, carnal and primal, and it was only being kept in check by the softer edge of Alucard’s power. The sweet heaviness of it slowed his impulses, his mind, and let him just sit there and wait.

The moment Dracula touched him, it felt like he could breathe again. One warm hand curled around the back of his neck, threading up to cradle the back of his skull, while the other pressed against the mark on his chest. That hand, that pressure, sent a tingling shock right through Eskel’s chest, causing him to gasp and arch up.

Fuck, but Dracula’s eyes were mesmerizing. That burning, banked red drew him in, settled him and set him ablaze at the same time. 

Eskel didn’t even wait for Dracula to ask. He just tilted his head to the side, nearly panting with need. He tried not to think about how Dracula had fit right into the space between his legs, how the hand on his chest eased down to grip tightly at his hip. It was so hot, burning even in the warm water of the pool.

Slowly, Dracula leaned in, pressing Eskel right up against the wall. After days of this same treatment, it was a welcome and familiar sensation, as was the scent of fire and blood that soon enveloped him. 

He even managed to ignore the way the succubi reached for his legs, pulling them apart to make more room for Dracula, each of them wrapping a deceptively dainty hand around his knee. There was only Dracula’s body next to him, so warm that it heated up the water in between them. Only those burning hands on him, and that scent in his nose. 

The hand in his hair tightened and adjusted the angle of his stretched out neck. But Dracula didn’t bite. He just ran his nose up Eskel’s neck, up to his jaw, and breathed in. 

“You did very well,” Dracula whispered into his ear. “You were very strong, and brave. Such a good witcher.”

The praise curled up inside of Eskel and made him strain against the hands that held him. Before he could do more than let out a single, ragged groan, Dracula pressed himself up against Eskel’s front and bit into his neck.

Blinding, overwhelming pleasure filled him up as Dracula’s fangs sank slowly into him. He tried to move, tried to shift closer, to do something, anything to increase that sensation, but Dracula held him tight to the wall. When that first suck dragged at him, every single nerve in his body shorted out with the sheer bliss of it. He strained again at the hold on him, but the best he could do was cling to Dracula’s shoulders, his fingers sliding on soapy skin. 

He had no idea how long it lasted. Pleasure built up with every suck and coherent thought was utterly drowned away by the sensation the bite gave him. It felt like an orgasm, like release, but he was still dimly aware of his pulsing cock and how hard it was. Everything burned. His mind, his body, his soul. But it was the best kind of burn. For the first time his hands were free when Dracula was feeding, and he found himself reaching up to Dracula’s head, urging him closer. Egging him on to drink more, to feed deeper. 

He could feel the foreign energy draining out of him, could feel the need to touch and cuddle, to be close, fade and be replaced with a more familiar lust. Euphoric, spaced-out bliss turned into the simple frustration of being so long without any kind of release.

When Dracula pulled away, licking his lips clean of the blood he spilled, Eskel could only lay there in the water, panting. His hands slid limply off Dracula’s shoulders as Dracula backed away. 

For the first time in weeks, Eskel’s mind felt clear. His body was no longer wracked by mixing signals of pain and pleasure, or just overwhelming suffering. The lust that still coursed through his body was the human kind, the type that caused him to remember the two women still pressed so tightly to his sides. Then he became aware of the position he was in and how the girls kept pulling at his knees to open him up. Burning heat scaled over his cheeks as he blushed. Hot and prickling, it expanded down from his face to his ears and chest in mere moments.

“Uh,” he said, trying not look at the very pleased vampire in front of him. He reached down to brush the hands holding his knees away. Both girls giggled as he gripped their wrists and then adamantly closed his legs, and again the tingle of the blush expanded. “Thank you,” he said finally. 

As absolutely embarrassing as it was, Dracula did exactly what Eskel needed him to. As was his pattern, he did it in the most intimate and embarrassing way possible, but that just seemed to be his normal way of being.

If Eskel could smell the girls' interest before, it was nothing compared to now. His senses seemed to come to life, pulling his attention towards the succubi. Their arousal was so strong he could taste it in the air, could feel on his tongue that they both were wet already. For him or for Dracula, he had no idea. The primal part of his brain was screaming at him that this was good, that he could take what was so freely offered, and Gods but did he need to. His cock was so hard it hurt, pulsing between his legs incessantly.

No doubt everyone else in the room could smell just exactly how badly Eskel needed to come. If he could smell it in the air, so could they. Not that it wasn’t obvious given the show he, they, probably just put on. The blush burnt a little hotter on his face, and he dared a look up to Dracula. 

But Dracula was already drifting away in the water, back towards Alucard and Geralt, though he kept his eyes on Eskel for the moment. 

“Stay or go, as you want,” Dracula said with great amusement. His eyes darted down, taking in what was probably a rather impressive bite mark on Eskel’s neck. His smug smile curled a bit wider. “But we’ll not be keeping to decorum after this.”

That was absolutely all Eskel needed to hear. He couldn’t even look over to what Geralt and Alucard were doing; he didn’t want to know. Quicker than he’d been able to move in weeks, Eskel hoisted himself up out of the bath and wrapped a convenient towel around his waist. 

Happily, he hadn’t even needed to say anything to Iga or Eyra. They simply followed him up out of the pool, and pressed their wet, gorgeous bodies against him. 

“I hope you girls want a meal,” Eskel said roughly.

“Always, witcher,” Iga answered with a laugh, leaning in close to kiss his cheek.

“If you think you can keep up with us.” Eyra kissed his other cheek, and caught his hand, pulling away to lead him towards the side door they came in from.

That made him cackle a bit. “Oh, sweetheart. I am gonna wear you both out,” he growled at them.

“Promises, promises,” Eyra teased as she pushed the door open for them.

He expected a hallway, but he didn't get one. Instead the door opened straight into a bedroom. He got the impression of a large bed, pillows and lots of warm colored cloth. 

He didn’t care. 

Eskel only took in a bare glimpse of the room Eyra opened before he was kicking the door closed, hearing Iga laugh behind him. He gently pushed Eyra against the nearest wall. She went easy, giggling at him, her wide, gold bracelets clinking gently as she raised her hands to his shoulders.

“I hope you are hungry,” he rasped, crowding him close and taking hold of her soft, smooth ass. He heaved up, lifting her clear off the ground. The noise she made at this show of strength was deeply enjoyable, and one he planned on hearing over and over again. 

Iga moved in behind him, pressing her naked, still damp breasts to his back. With a single, deft movement, she snaked an arm around to rest on the knot of the towel wrapped around his hips.

“You want to be rough with us?” she breathed into his ear, deft fingers doing away with the knot in seconds.

“No,” he said, pulling his lips away from the long expanse of neck Eyra was offering him. “But I can’t be nice yet.” His hips were grinding into the heat so close to it, Eyra’s folds already slick and so hot. Fuck, he wasn’t going wait, couldn’t do it at all. 

It only took one more shift to get her into better position and then he was sinking into her wet heat. The bliss of it all but made his eyes roll back. Eyra dug her nails into his shoulders and Iga rubbed sinuously against his back. Everywhere around him there were naked curves and soft skin.

“Gods,” he moaned, helpless against the lust that had gripped him for days with no release. Eyra was making throaty little groans as he fucked into her and it was the loveliest thing he’d heard in an age.

She smelled like lust, come, and heat. Her sweet little pussy was so tight and so perfect, he was coming before he even knew what was happening. His cock swelled and pulsed, spurting come. The sheer pleasure of it was amazing, like a holy rapture come to earth. His whole body locked up as wave after wave swept over him. She panted hard against his ear and held on tight to his shoulders. A flush rose up on her face, probably more to do with the sexual energy she was now feeding on than any other physical pleasure.

He pulled out, moaning again at the feel of cool air hitting the wet skin of his cock. Her tight channel gripped him all the way as she tightened, trying to keep him in.

“Don’t go,” Eyra whispered, leaning in for a kiss that he happy returned. Her tongue was like quicksilver, darting in to tease and invite him to play. “Stay.”

“Not going anywhere,” he said quietly. This was barely enough to take the edge off his burgeoning lust. 

He let her down, slid his hands down from her round hips to her waist, and then urged her to turn around. She braced her hands against the wall with a giggle and her golden hair spilled down over her shoulders and just past her waist. When he pushed his foot between her legs and pressed at the ankle, she spread her legs obligingly and let out a soft moan that went right to his cock. The sound of it made his dick twitch with anticipation.

He looked down at the amazing swell of her buttocks and took a handful of each, pulling them gently apart. He could see the tight little furl of her ass and the pink wet folds of her pussy. Just to encourage him along, she tilted her hips, showing off the wetness there.

He could smell his own come on her now, in her. A little bit of fluid had already started to slowly drip out of wet hole. His heart pounded in his chest and he was so hot his skin prickled with it. That first orgasm wasn’t nearly enough to slack his lust. Hell, it wasn’t even enough to make him go soft. He wanted everything. He wanted to touch, to knead her breasts. He wanted to push his cock into every hole, wanted to make her come, wanted to feel her clench down on him in orgasm, milking him. He _wanted_. He was want incarnate. And there wasn’t a single damn reason why he shouldn’t get it all.

She made a hoarse sound as he pushed in again. As his cock sank into her, a wet little sound followed the movement. She was so wet, absolutely dripping. That only served to stroke his lust higher. 

He pushed himself close, so close his front was flush against her back. In one smooth movement, he’d bottomed out. Every part of him pressed against her, inside of her. They were so close that he could feel the little tremors coursing through her. One little twitch farther in was enough to have her clenching down on him, and she pushed her hips against him to take him deeper. The smell of her perfume, her sweat, and her lust was making him dizzy.

Then he wrapped his arms around her, getting a handful of those amazing breasts. So perfect and full, soft and sweet. It was joy itself the way her nipples perked up and tightened under his attention.

“Leave something for me too,” Iga whispered, trailing small kisses over his shoulder. She rubbed her breasts and hard nipples over his back, slotting her hips against his ass. With every move of his hips, Iga’s hands urged him on, almost as if she were part of the fucking that was going on in front of her. He could smell her too, her want, her lust, and just how wet she was.

“Don’t worry,” he growled. He pushed his cock in with long, slow strokes; each one sent waves of heat crashing through his body and made Eyra tighten up and cry out. “I’ve barely started.”

\---


	6. Chapter 6

Geralt lay back into Alucard’s arms and watched as Dracula eased into Eskel’s space. 

“Father will take good care of him,” Alucard whispered in his ear. His breath tickled against the damp skin there and sent shivers racing up his spine. 

Geralt was already achingly hard, especially after Dracula had done his best to run his hands over every part of his body. Those wonderful, clever fingers had teased him, slipped inside of him, and wrapped around him, until Geralt was ready to devour Dracula whole. 

It was almost painful to have Dracula swim away to go tend to Eskel, but Alucard’s hands soothed him. Geralt knew that this was necessary, just as he knew that the rest of them had done whatever they could to help Eskel survive his ordeal. That tempered his irritation. 

That irritation was still somewhat astonishing to Geralt. He’d never been the jealous type before. But, then again, he’d never had this type of relationship before. So much of his _self_ , his body and soul, were wrapped up in their connection, and he knew it was the same for Dracula and Alucard. They practically breathed each other in every time they were in the same room. That kind of all encompassing love was hard to share.

But looking at Eskel, his friend and brother, and how tenderly Dracula held him, Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to let that annoyance fester. He wanted to see Eskel cared for, and he relished the chance to see Dracula actually feel something. 

It was obvious to him that Dracula had started to care, too. There were no claws on Eskel’s skin, and the soft way Dracula bit into him was as gentle as a feather’s touch. 

Alucard had his arm wrapped around Geralt’s front, his jaw resting on Geralt’s shoulder. His scent was strong in the air, intensified by the hot water. Loose tendrils of his long, wet hair slithered down Geralt’s chest and arm, ticking his skin. In the heat of the bath, Alucard’s normally cool skin had warmed up. His body was a delightful weight around Geralt, anchoring him to the moment. 

Eskel was making little noises, little gasps and cries of pleasure as Dracula fed. The thing was, Geralt knew just what that felt like. He knew how that sucking sensation would take over all other things. How the rest of the world would fade away under that overwhelming draw. 

“How did he ever manage to do this for days without actually coming?” Geralt whispered. 

“I guess he is as stubborn as you are fearless,” Alucard said, brushing a kiss against Geralt’s shoulder. Then he kissed again and again, going higher up Geralt’s shoulder towards his neck. Geralt tilted his head, giving Alucard access, eyes still fixed on the scene before him.

Fuck, but it was beautiful to watch. The way Dracula rhythmically pulled in Eskel’s body, rocking into each swallow. And how Eskel just urged him closer, a hand in that lovely, dark hair. Geralt found himself rocking a little into Alucard, slowly grinding into his lap. 

Still, he watched. He couldn’t take his eyes away. Wouldn’t have wanted to even if he was being paid. 

“Do you ever…” Geralt paused to swallow. His throat was so dry, and he couldn’t help but think of all the possibilities. “Do you ever feel the need to feed like that? I know you drink from Dracula, but…” 

He shuddered against the feel of Alucard’s breath on his throat. Geralt wanted Alucard’s bite. Very, very much. But he also didn’t want to pressure Alucard in any way. He knew how much of a sensitive subject it was, and his main priority was keeping Alucard happy. 

“I didn’t used to,” Alucard said, breath fanning against Geralt’s skin. “Only sometimes during a fight with a demon, if I was badly injured. Nothing else was strong enough to force me into feeding. Other enemies weren’t a challenge enough. Until I met a challenge that was too much for me.” Alucard pressed his face into the crook of Geralt’s shoulder.

“The previous Lord of Hell,” Alucard continued. “He possessed me and forced my Father to fight me.”

“Ouch.” Geralt couldn’t see Dracula holding off during that fight. He would never believe that whoever was possessing Alucard would actually give him back.

“He forced that entity out of me, but I was…damaged. Severely. He gave me his blood to save me. It was the first time I drank anything other than some lesser demon’s blood.”

Geralt’s heart hurt to hear how Alucard had been used. It made him want to turn around and kiss away even the memory of that pain. But Alucard seemed comfortable wrapped up behind him, and given the subject matter, maybe it was better that Alucard have control of their embrace. So Geralt just leaned in a bit more and pulled Alucard’s arms around him. 

“So feeding is different for you now,” Geralt said. It was half statement, half question. As long as Alucard was in a talking mood, Geralt was willing to listen. There was so much history here that he was lost on, even after months of being so close to Alucard and Dracula.

“When I woke up first as a vampire, I was terrified. I hated myself and him for making me into a monster. I was terrified of succumbing to bloodlust the way he did.”

“You didn’t though, did you?” Geralt turned his head and laid gentle kisses along the side of Alucard’s head, careful not to dislodge where Alucard had partially hidden his face. “You’re so incredibly strong.” 

“I always thought it was the thirst for blood that drove my Father to commit the atrocities he did. But now, I’m not so sure anymore.”

Geralt hummed in thought. “I don’t know him as well as you. But from what I’ve seen so far, I think…” He bit his lip and considered his words carefully. “I think that Dracula would let nothing and no one rule him, not even his own desires. Except perhaps his rage. I don’t think it’s hunger that haunts him. I think it’s the pain of love gone wrong.”

Alucard breathed, soft and steady for a beat before he answered.

“I’m starting to see that, too,” Alucard admitted. “That the things I always knew to be true about his past might not be wholly fact.”

“So you’re starting to wonder about your own thirst, too. If you can still be _you_ , even after the taste of it.”

Geralt could hear Alucard licking his lips.

“Yes,” he answered finally.

A little coil of lust raced through Geralt and he squirmed a bit in place. Just the thought of Alucard drinking from him, bringing them both the same kind of pleasure that Dracula was sharing with Eskel right now, was dizzying. But Geralt knew better than to press the issue. It was a huge enough concession for Alucard to even speak of his doubts.

“You have time to think on it,” Geralt said finally. “And whatever you decide is right for you will be fine with me. I love you, Alucard.” He brushed another kiss against Alucard’s temple. 

“I love you, too.” Alucard’s arms tightened around Geralt. “Never doubt that, please. You came into my life like a storm, but I wouldn't have it any other way.”

With a gentle finger, Geralt lifted up Alucard’s chin and kissed him on the lips. Slow at first, gentle, and with as much care as he could muster. It was sweet and wonderful, and absolutely not enough. He threaded one hand into Alucard’s hair and urged him deeper, parting his lips to drink in all that he could. 

“Eskel offered too, you know,” Alucard said when they parted, still close enough his breath fanned over Geralt’s lips.

A whole array of emotions flitted through Geralt, but he settled on amusement. “Ha. Why am I not surprised.” He gave Alucard a quick peck on the lips, and added, “I’d be very happy if you wanted to drink from me. But if it’s Eskel you’d rather…” His lips twisted into a rueful smirk. “He’d be a good choice.”

“It’s not a matter of who’s better,” Alucard said cautiously. “I care about him a great deal, he is a friend, but you are my lover, Geralt. You will always come first.”

Happiness bubbled up inside of him. Geralt had hoped that would be what Alucard felt, but it was both a joy and a relief to hear the words said. 

“Thank you.” He smiled broadly, and ran his fingers through that lovely hair again. The grin turned a little wicked. “It’s purely selfish of me. I just want your mouth all over me at any given time.”

“Just so you know,” Alucard murmured. “If Lambert or Vesemir offers next, I will start wondering about you witchers.”

Geralt tossed his head back and laughed. “If they do, I’ll start to wonder too.”

“Look.” Alucard nodded towards the end of the pool where Eskel and Dracula were all wrapped up in each other. Only they weren’t any more. Dracula was drifting back towards them and Eskel was already climbing out of the water.

Geralt couldn’t help but admire Dracula as he waded towards them. His wet, dark hair was plastered to his face and neck and little water droplets trickled down his chest and arms. He looked ridiculously smug; pleasure and amusement suffused his power to the point where even Geralt could feel it tingling against his senses.

“Hmm.” Geralt nudged Alucard gently with his elbow. Dracula looked far too smug.

He felt Alucard’s attention refocus on him more than he saw it and his skin prickled with the sensation. Quick as a viper, Geralt lunged forward with Alucard following half a heartbeat behind. The way Dracula’s eyes widened in shock and the yelp he made as he went down under their combined weight was a treasure, and something Geralt would remember for the rest of his days.

Geralt got a noseful of water for his trouble, but it was worth it to see Dracula get dunked. A tell-tale blue glow of Alucard’s spectral form flickered in his peripheral vision, and Geralt realized that Alucard had dashed away, leaving him to face Dracula’s retribution alone. Then there were hands on his thigh, pulling him down under the water too.

He twisted and turned, trying to get away, and all while trying not to drown himself by laughing underwater. Dracula wasn’t having it at all. Wide hands groping his thighs and hips, giving Geralt ho hope of escape.

After a moment of struggle, Geralt switched tactics. Instead of trying to squirm away, he wrapped his legs tight around Dracula’s waist and pulled himself in for a kiss. 

Dracula was laughing too, he could feel that when they kissed. It was the first time he’d ever experienced Dracula being playful enough to laugh right into a kiss. Knowing that he was the cause of that made joy bubble up inside of him. Dracula should laugh more often, he thought.

They were still kissing when they resurfaced. Geralt was wrapped around Dracula, clinging to that powerful body with his arms and legs.

“You still seem weak after your trial,” Geralt said, pushing away the black hair that was plastered to Dracula's forehead. He couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe you should get a drink from me to feel better?”

“Are you offering?” Dracula asked, but his hand was already inching towards Geralt’s hair.

“Yes.” The word came out rough and more than a little needy. After the way Alucard had marked him up a day ago, after watching Eskel writhe under Dracula’s iron grip, Geralt was more than ready to let Dracula drink his fill. He blinked, and his lips tugged into a smile. Dracula had a fantasy, after all. Might as well run with it. “After so many days in chains, you must be starving.”

“I am so thirsty,” Dracula rumbled, sliding in close, slotting their bodies together. Geralt could feel Dracula’s half hard cock pressed to his hip and ached to wrap his hands around it, stroke it, and feel it grow big under his touch.

The hand around his neck tightened, firmly pulling Geralt’s head back and to the side, and exposing the line of his neck. Geralt could feel his own pulse in his neck, and excited pounding that thrummed through him and echoed in his ears.

“I need you,” Dracula said quietly, lowering his mouth to offered skin. His lips were so close that Geralt could feel the warm air bringing out the goosebumps on his damp skin. Geralt pressed his hips forward, seeking friction and relief.

“Take me. Take what you need.” Geralt’s voice was rough and low, and he couldn’t help but squirm in Dracula’s grip. Trying to get just a little closer.

Dracula didn’t bite though. He kissed that madly beating pulse point. Then he moved higher, following the tendon up Geralt’s neck until he could nibble at the ear lobe with blunt teeth.

It was like that little bit of wetness and that tiny breath of air was a direct line to Geralt’s cock. Heat surged up in him and he twisted around. Mad shivers broke out across his body, and Geralt dug his fingers into Dracula’s shoulders. Wet skin slid against wet skin as he pulled them even closer, slotting them together from chest to hips.

“Do it,” he urged, wanting so bad to feel those fangs in him, to feel Dracula pull blood and pleasure out of him. Every breath against his skin was electric, causing heat to coil up inside of him.

Slow little licks traced down Geralt’s jaw and back down his neck. Then Dracula paused, giving the pulse there another gentle kiss. The gesture was so sweet, so loving, that breath caught in Geralt’s chest. 

Then he felt the slow drag of teeth as Dracula opened his mouth, tracing his fangs across Geralt’s skin. The pleasure and anticipation built so much that by the time Dracula bit down, Geralt couldn’t even feel the pain of those fangs piercing his body. There was only the sweet, powerful draw that stroked every nerve inside of him, heating him up and sending shudders through him at the same time.

Soft, tortured little moans escaped from him as he gave himself up to the pleasure of it. His cock throbbed and jerked, dragging over Dracula’s wet skin and hard muscles. It was impossible to keep his eyes open; the pleasure of it was too much. Easier just to go with it, close his eyes, and immerse himself in the carnality of it. His body was enveloped in the fire of lust that Dracula stroked inside of him. 

The feeling of another pair of cool hands on his hips was a shock. Almost enough for him to jerk away, but Dracula’s hands tightened around him, keeping him trapped. Geralt loved the little jolt of excitement that show of strength caused. That effortless hold always turned him on something fierce. 

“You give in to him so well.” Alucard’s voice was honey sweet in his ear. “It makes me want to do wicked things to you.”

Geralt groaned. He let go of one of Dracula’s shoulders and reaching back to grab a hold of Alucard, pulling him close. Heat enveloped his back as Alucard pressed himself in close, so close that his cock slid up wetly between Geralt’s cheeks.

“Gods,” Geralt moaned, shuddering in place. The stimulation of being held between both Dracula and Alucard was overwhelming. He wanted to cry out, to thrash and moan, but the pleasure of Dracula’s bite held him hostage, reducing him to quiet, helpless little movements. 

Alucard nosed up against the other side of his neck and his cool lips slid against Geralt’s heated skin. Geralt’s whole body pulsed with the pleasure of it. The last little bit of tension fled out of him, and he melted in between the bodies of his lovers. Dracula easily nudged his head to the side, giving more room for Alucard to fit in.

An absolutely obscene noise came out of Geralt’s throat when Alucard started sucking. He wasn't biting, wasn’t even close to breaking the skin. It was so much, so unbelievably intense. Dracula drinking from him, every suck sparking a flood of pleasure, and Alucard sucking hard on the other side of his neck. Geralt’s cock was so hard it throbbed. Unconsciously, his hips jerked forward to rub against Dracula’s hard stomach, but he was so tightly held that he couldn’t get any friction at all. Fuck, he was still so charged from all the potions, and the adrenaline of the battle wasn’t yet out of his system. He wanted to fuck, to be fucked. He wanted relief.

When Alucard’s hand slipped in between them and wrapped around his cock, firm and slick, Geralt let out a rough shout. Alucard wasn’t teasing. He just gripped Geralt’s cock firmly and started jerking him off. Each stroke was practiced, expertly performed exactly how Geralt liked best, rubbing him in all the right ways. 

Pleasure exploded over his senses, sluicing down from his neck, arching up from his cock, and utterly overwhelming him. He panted, holding on desperately to both his lovers as the pleasure built and built, tightening his balls and pulling them up. He was so close, so damn close. One stroke, two strokes, and then he was coming. His body locked up as come shot out of him, spurt after spurt, splashing over Dracula’s abs. But Alucard wasn't stopping, wasn’t letting up at all. He just kept milking his cock, stoking the ecstasy higher.

Dracula made a sound then, low and throaty, and then bit down again. It was messier this time, and Geralt could feel the blood trickle down his neck, leaking out around the seal of Dracula’s mouth. He couldn’t care less about it; all he could feel was wave after wave of his own orgasm. The tang of blood and power in the air only mixed in with the scent of sex. Alucard’s clever fingers swiped around his leaking cockhead, collecting his release and rubbing it in, using is at further lubricant for that fast, rough stroking. 

He might have come a second time, or maybe it was just one long orgasm. Try as he might, he couldn’t move, couldn’t escape or increase that mind melting pleasure. All he could do was take it. He was burning up, and the sight of the baths was long since lost to the stars behind his eyes. Underneath his ragged moans came another soft, little sound. Tiny grunts of pleasure and want escaped Dracula’s hungry mouth, and the bite at his neck went a little deeper. It was a sharp but wonderful feeling, and only caused Geralt to pull both Dracula and Alucard closer.

He became aware of Alucard's hard cock rubbing between his cheeks, the cockhead pulling at his hole every so often. Dracula was hard too, rubbing wet little circles against his hip. Fuck, they were so close. So close to giving him even more. He ached to feel one or both of them inside of him.

When Dracula pulled away from his neck, it was slow and deliberate, and Geralt felt every second of his fangs withdrawing. There was an achy kind of pain to the way his skin pulled. For a normal human it would probably hurt, but it barely registered with Geralt as pain at all. What little he did feel was more like the soreness of being well fucked, and he groaned in appreciation.

Dracula dragged his lips over Geralt’s neck to his jaw, and then up to his cheek. He laid a little kiss there, and then dragged his mouth over to Geralt’s, slotting them together, and kissing him with lips still stained with blood. 

The kiss itself was slow and deep. Dracula slowly fucked into Geralt’s mouth with his tongue, simulating the act that Geralt was sure would come soon. He loved how it felt to be sandwiched between his lovers, to be wanted like this. He wanted to touch both of them at once, wanted to hold and pull. Wanted to kiss them. His chest felt full to bursting with how much he wanted them, cared about them, and loved what was happening.

“Such a good witcher,” Dracula said slow as molasses, his voice softer than usual. Geralt blinked and focused on his lover’s red eyes. They tracked him slowly, without the usual sharpness and Geralt remembered. 

High toxicity meant Dracula got high on his blood.

Geralt couldn’t help it.

He giggled.

“Alucard,” Dracula said. He sounded so damn chuffed at seeing the younger vampire that it pulled Alucard away from Geralt’s neck, where he was diligently working on the biggest hickey the world ever saw.

“Father?”

“You are so pretty,” Dracula sighed, reaching for Alucard’s face. He cupped Alucard’s jaw in his hand as carefully as if it was made of glass and pulled him into a slow, wet kiss.

Somewhere along the way, Alucard had stopped stroking Geralt into a frenzy and had simply held his cock tightly. Even after all the stimulation, Geralt was still hard. Given how many potions he’d taken not so long ago, he wasn’t that surprised. Once he got worked up, he’d be ready to fuck for a while yet. His blood practically sang with the magic and chemicals racing through his veins. No wonder Dracula looked so dreamy.

It took a moment for Geralt to haul his brain back on track. But as he watched Dracula and Alucard slowly kiss and lick into each other, he realized that now was actually the perfect time for Dracula to be a little extra relaxed. 

They had a fantasy to play out, after all.

Geralt was safe in the knowledge that even in Dracula’s stoned state, he wouldn’t allow anything he wasn’t comfortable with. And after that powerful orgasm, Geralt was more than ready to lay Dracula down and pleasure the hell out of him. 

“What?” Alucard asked after Dracula pulled away from the kiss. “Father?”

Dracula chuckled.

“He’s high,” Geralt said smugly, a slow smile curling at his lips. “Apparently a side effect of drinking from me while I’ve got so many potions running through me.” 

He trailed a hand along Dracula’s jaw, and rubbed his thumb over those beautiful red stained lips. Dracula just smirked at him, and playfully caught the roving finger with his teeth.

“I feel good,” Dracula admitted, his hand sliding down Geralt’s back to his ass and resting there possessively. “You feel good too.”

“Will you let me make you feel better?” Geralt asked, locking his arm around Dracula’s waist. “Let us make you feel good?”

“You always feel so good.” Dracula leaned in to deliver a gentle bite to Geralt’s shoulder, his tongue sneaking out for a taste of skin. “Always so good for me,” he purred then leaned over Geralt to reach Alucard. “So pretty, so good, all for me.”

Geralt couldn't help the laugh that the statement pulled from him. 

“Possessive even when high, aren't you?”

Dracula squeezed the cheek he was holding, bearing down on Geralt and squishing him against Alucard.

“Won’t let you go,” he murmured and then the familiar sensation of the world melting away hit Geralt. The walls of the baths blurred, the moisture and perfume of the soaps dissipated to be replaced with smoky incense and the unmistakable scent of Dracula’s bedroom. The huge bed came into being just as the sensation of warm water against his skin vanished completely.

It got easier to blink away the strangeness, the shock to his senses, after being subjected to this more than a few times, but his heart always skipped a beat or two at the casual way Dracula rearranged reality in his castle.

He looked Dracula over, admiring his naked and powerful form, as well as how unselfconscious he was. Geralt loved the thickly muscled middle of him, the pale skin and long legs. He loved the danger so deeply ingrained into Dracula, into his very body.

He pressed his hands against that wide chest, felt the rise and fall of Dracula’s breath, the firmness of muscle, and the small, hard pebbles of his nipples. 

Geralt licked his lips. Desire curled hot and tight in his belly. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he wanted Dracula. How much he loved the way Dracula made him feel. Even how much he loved being taken by him. He loved everything about his body. The weight of it, the solid sturdiness of it, how merciless he could be. The easy way he let Geralt control what was happening only made Geralt’s current mood all the sweeter.

“Lay back,” Geralt said softly. A wicked grin stretched across his face as he pushed Dracula back a step. “I want to touch you. Make you see stars.”

Alucard was still nestled in behind him, and the two of them pressed Dracula down onto the bed. Dracula went easily, with a bemused smirk on his face. 

Quickly, Geralt locked gazes with Alucard, and then nodded towards the stand beside the bed. When they’d first started their relationship, Dracula would oftentimes just summon them oil, or rather, he would summon demonic servants bearing oil. But as time wore on, and sometimes Geralt and Alucard would share the bed here alone, they’d started to keep a supply of fragrant oil on hand. Geralt always prefered the distilled oils from various flowers he collected. The sweet scent soothed him in a way that was probably just a byproduct of years of using the same ingredients for his own potions. It reminded him of safety and relief, of the quiet hours alone when he meticulously created the potent little liquids that kept him strong and healthy, no matter what opposition he ran into. 

It also tickled something deep inside of him to know that Dracula and Alucard would be coated in this smell. A scent that was almost as uniquely _his_ as the scent of his clothes or skin. 

He stepped between Dracula’s legs and rested his hands on Dracula’s knees, feeling the bone under thin skin, and licked his lips. Dracula was hard, his cock thick and heavy, resting against his belly easily. Geralt wanted to taste it, wanted to pull the head into his mouth and suck the faint traces of precome he could smell already. He wanted to lick along the hard shaft and trace the veins he could see there, thick and swollen. He wanted to take the heavy balls into his hands and into his mouth. He wanted to lick him everywhere, to suck and touch and pull the pleasured moans out of him with every touch. He _wanted_.

Geralt pushed at Dracula’s knees, trying to make a little space for himself. Him and Alucard, both. When Dracula spread his legs easily for him, Geralt’s heart tripped a little. A coil of heat tightened in his belly and sparked a vicious lust inside him. Without thinking, he leaned down and bit down hard on the thick muscle of Dracula’s thigh, sinking his teeth in there. It wasn’t enough to break the skin but it was definitely hard enough to leave a mark. He wanted that, to leave a mark, to be inside Dracula, to have Dracula inside him. Geralt wanted. Viciously, carnally, immediately. 

He bit down again and again, making his way higher up the thigh. With every bite he heard the little hitched breaths Dracula made and felt the muscle tremble under his ministration. The fact Dracula let him do this was even more of a turn on than the act itself. Enough so that his cock twitched and leaked precome without a single touch being laid on it, and hunger tightened his throat.

“So pretty,” Dracula said in between little gasps. His fingers twitched a little, but he left them on the bed and allowed Geralt to move as he wanted. It only made Geralt feel more like a hungry animal.

Alucard crawled across the bed up to Dracula’s side. Just as he was leaning down to give Dracula’s chest a lick, he passed off a small vial to Geralt. The oil.

Alucard’s lips trailed that wide chest Geralt liked so much until they found a dark, hard nipple and closed there. One of Dracula’s hands came up, tangling in Alucard’s wet, white hair, keeping him close. Dracula was usually a very quiet lover. Getting even a sigh out of him always felt like victory, so the little sound he made when Alucard started sucking on his nipple went straight to Geralt’s cock. 

The lust surged up, coiling like liquid heat down his back, and Geralt moved forward. He flattened his tongue against that thick cock he’d been eyeing and licked from root to tip. Just a wet, filthy lick, no finesse to it at all. There was the taste of skin and mineral water from the baths and just a hint of precome at the tip. He licked again and again, just to hear the tiny, barely audible hitches in Dracula’s breath. Blissful satisfaction raged through him at the tiny ‘ _oh_ ’ Dracula let out when Geralt’s lips closed around the head, sucking on it hard and viciously hungry.

He kept one hand on Dracula’s hips, pressing him down. Geralt wasn’t under any illusions that he could hold Dracula down if he really wanted to get away, but it was wonderful to feel the straining muscles under him. The slight twitch of those hips as Dracula gently rocked upwards into each suck. 

Then Dracula arched up off the bed with a gasp. Geralt looked up in time to see Alucard digging his teeth into Dracula’s chest. It didn’t look like he was feeding, just biting down, getting a mouthful of muscle. It was such a pretty image, so hot and beautiful that Geralt had to pause a moment to admire it. 

Geralt took the brief reprieve to pour oil onto one of his hands, slicking his fingers up. Fuck, there was so much he wanted to do. Wanted to lick and bite and taste. To touch and feel. Knowing how different this might be for Dracula, though, he decided to ease into things. 

It was difficult, but he knew that if he did well here, then Dracula might be interested in more later. 

Struck by an idea, he reached out and took hold of Alucard’s hand, guiding it to Dracula’s thigh. Keeping those legs open for Geralt to work. Then he went back to licking and sucking up and down Dracula’s hard length. He traced up the thick vein on the side of that delicious cock, then sucked at the head, reveling in the soft flesh in his mouth. It was so warm, and with every little lick he got another small hint of salty precome. He felt like his body was burning up with lust, but he kept himself in check. This was important.

As he sucked and licked, he worked his oil slicked hand up and down the shaft. That was just a starting point, but a nice place to ease Dracula into what Geralt had planned. From the way Dracula was slowly undulating into each movement, he was clearly enjoying the experience. 

After several good strokes, Geralt moved his hand down to cup Dracula's balls. He rubbed into them, rolling them around in his hand, oiling them up. All the while he kept up the teasing with his mouth, never really going all the way with blowing him, but laving the whole of that thick cock with his spit. Especially that wonderful head. Fuck, he loved Dracula’s cockhead, thick and purpling with lust. Loved how it felt popping in and out of his mouth, the way it fit so snugly between his lips. He licked over the slit there like it was a piece of candy, eager to get every little taste he could of the precome leaking out.

Carefully he eased his oiled hand down again, rubbing that tender place right under his sack. As Geralt's hand drifted down, Alucard moved his head down Dracula’s body, until he and Geralt were both nearly sharing the same space. Then Alucard began licking around the base of Dracula’s cock. A quick glance up showed that Alucard had pushed his ass up into the air. One of Dracula’s hands roamed there, dipping into the crack and dragging out harsh little moans from Alucard. 

Geralt eased his hand down farther, finally circling over Dracula’s tightly puckered hole. Oh, how long Geralt had dreamed of this. Fuck, he was hungry for it. Couldn’t fucking wait to touch and explore. He tempered his lust with patience. This was worth doing right.

With gentle little circles he warmed up the skin there, rubbing into the tight furl with care. He wanted Dracula to feel so good he couldn’t help but come, wanted to wring the pleasure right out of him. Every other circle around the hole, Geralt would dip his finger in, just a little bit, adding in oil, feeling out Dracula’s reactions. The hips under his other hand were still pulsing up into him, and Dracula’s cock throbbed and leaked under the attention it was getting. 

Then Alucard worked his way up Dracula’s cock. Soon both he and Geralt were sucking away at the head there; their lips slid against each other as they strove to get as much of Dracula’s cock as they could. The moment they both started working in tandem, Geralt eased that first finger all the way into Dracula’s ass. A full body shiver broke out across Dracula’s body and his breath hitched. Geralt could feel one clawed hand thread through his hair, but it didn’t push. Didn’t move him or even bring any pressure to bear. It just stayed there, holding on to him. Dracula’s surrender felt like the best alcohol, the purest fisstech, and was enough to steal his breath away. It wasn’t anything he ever expected from the Lord of Darkness.

Geralt let that first finger sit inside Dracula for a moment. It seemed unlikely that Dracula had ever bottomed before, but even if he had, it must have been a long time ago. Even that first bit of intrusion must have stretched and burned, and those muscles around his finger were clamped down as tight as a vice. He waited, and both he and Alucard sucked and licked up and down Dracula’s cock. 

Dracula was making sounds, the little growly breaths that he only ever made when it was Geralt and Alucard working at him in tandem. Geralt remembered those same sounds coming from him when he and Alucard sucked him off in the throne room that very first time. It seemed that this was something that broke through Dracula’s defences the fastest.

Geralt’s nose was full of Dracula’s scent, his musk, his skin, and the taste of precome that liberally spilled from his swollen head. Geralt and Alucard battled for territory for a while, sucking and lipping at the flesh until Geralt gave ground and went lower, licking messily at the shaft and trailing down to the heavy balls already pulling up.

Eager to give Dracula all he needed, Geralt pressed his finger into the tight heat that clutched him. He wasn’t trying to stretch Dracula any further, not yet. No, Geralt had other plans. With the surety of long practice, he rubbed inward, seeking that sensitive spot inside, the place that would drive his lover to absolute distraction. All the while he licked and sucked at the ever tightening balls while Alucard lustily swallowed down that thick cock. 

In just a little more. Almost. Almost.

There.

Dracula arched upwards, moaning deeply and thrusting his hips, shoving his cock deep into Alucard’s throat, choking him. The firm squeeze of his ass tightened down impossibly hard onto Geralt’s finger, gripping him in pulsing waves as Dracula spilled into Alucard’s mouth. Throughout it all, Geralt kept up the lazy firm circles that his finger made on that sensitive nerve cluster, syncing them with Dracula’s release, extending it. Milking it out of him. Alucard was letting out muffled moans right along with Dracula, pressing himself down onto that thick cock, swallowing noisily. Little tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and his hair was spread all over the place.

Fuck, Geralt could smell the come in the air. He couldn’t stop himself from rising up to lick at the edges of Alucard’s mouth, lapping wetly around the seam there in the hopes of catching even a taste of Dracula’s release. Just the tiniest bit of bitter fluid leaked out, and Geralt licked eagerly at it. His own pleasure was long forgotten in the rush of breaking apart Dracula so quickly. 

He didn’t want it to end. Wouldn’t let it. Dracula was an impressive lover on any given occasion, so Geralt knew that he could keep going. Keep pressing his luck. 

When Alucard finally pulled back, red and gasping, with a little trail of come and spit trailing out of him, Geralt just took his place. He sucked in that fat cockhead, pulled it deep into his mouth with relish, and savored the soft skin and thick firmness in his mouth. All the while, he kept on moving his finger in those little circles. Dracula’s ass was becoming beautifully wet and relaxed, accepting his finger better and better. The hand on his head tightened a bit, tips of the claws just barely scratching at his scalp, but it still didn’t move him away; there was only the pleasant drag of fingers in his hair.

He hollowed out his cheeks and sucked in, devouring the cock in front of him. It was still so hard that he could feel it pulsing in his mouth, nudging back into his throat. The taste was salty and thick on his tongue, and he was dying to get more. He could just barely hear Alucard breathing heavily next to him, his head resting on Dracula’s hip for a moment. Over that was the small, breathy moans that Dracula was letting out with gratifying frequency. That beautiful hard body was tensing and twitching with the effort to stay still, and Geralt _loved it_. Loved how Dracula was letting him do this, letting them coax out pleasure after pleasure from him.

Judging that Dracula was ready, Geralt eased a second finger into his ass. Now both fingers were rubbing up inside of Dracula, teasing him, and building up the pleasure all over again. That hole was still so tight, so incredibly tight, Geralt had to wonder what it would be like to shove his cock in there. He twitched and dripped with the sheer thought of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that likely wouldn’t happen tonight, but just the fact that Dracula had allowed this much was mind meltingly hot. It made him lick and suck all the more frantically, worshiping the cock in front of him in uncoordinated, sloppy wet movements. His only goal was to hear those lovely sounds again, to get his own taste of Dracula’s release.

Alucard kissed up Dracula’s stomach, licking hungrily at whatever skin he could reach. At the same time, his hand trailed down Geralt’s back. Geralt arched up into it. He wanted to feel more of that glorious skin on skin contact that he craved, but couldn’t move far. His hands were busy and his mouth was full. All the need and want that was building inside of him seemed to transfer over to his need to give pleasure. He felt hungry for it, animalistic and ruthless as he worked his lover over as best he could. Heat burned up inside of him and he could taste Dracula’s pulse in his mouth and feel it around his fingers. 

He worked at it until his jaw ached and his hand cramped, and then beyond that. The scent of arousal and the spine-tingling sensation of Dracula’s power flowed over and around them, filling the air. Dracula was so hard under him, his muscles clenched and shivered. At some point he slung a leg over Geralt’s shoulder, holding him in place and egging him on at the same time.

Geralt couldn’t help it. He rutted into the soft sheets beneath him, striving for his own release. His mouth and mind were full of Dracula, his taste, his scent, and a thousand fantasies unfolded behind his eyes. 

Distantly he was aware of Alucard still licking and sucking his way across Dracula’s chest. One hand still rested on the nape of Geralt’s neck, just below where Dracula gripped him. The rough, little growls that ripped out of Dracula’s throat were the best kind of music, and Geralt hummed in pleasure. That brought Dracula’s hips up, bucking down into his throat and choking him for a moment. Tears pooled up in his eyes, but Geralt only shoved himself farther down and hummed again. He pulled back for a moment and sucked as he moved, striving to get every trace of precome off of that thick cock in his mouth. He paused just long enough to get a good lungful of air, and then he dove down again, humming deep in his throat and taking Dracula in all the way up to the hilt.

The hand on his head finally crushed him forward, smashing his nose into Dracula’s stomach, and Dracula was coming. His cock was so far down Geralt’s throat that he couldn’t taste the come at all; it just poured into him in throbbing spurt after spurt. Geralt couldn’t breathe and didn’t even want to. Come flooded into him, far more than his body had the ability to handle all at once. His mouth was so damn full and tears raced down his cheeks. Over and over he rubbed his fingers into Dracula’s ass, tormenting that sweet spot and dragging out that pleasure.

“Geralt.” Dracula sounded rough, wrecked even. The hand in Geralt’s hair tightened and pulled, forcing him up and away from the cock still spurting the last of Dracula’s release. Geralt made a protesting sound and tried to swallow the taste. But Dracula kept pulling, his grip unyielding, forcing Geralt to go along with it. It was enough that Geralt had to pull his fingers out of Dracula's ass as he was forced upwards, dragged up until their lips met. Dracula kissed him like a starving man; he covering Geralt’s mouth completely and pushed his tongue in, fucking it in with quick, wet licks that stole Geralt’s breath away from him.

While they kissed, Geralt thrust his hips against Dracula’s wet, hard belly. His cocknead slid against the rigid muscles sweetly, so soft and burningly hot. Now that he was no longer focusing on bringing Dracula pleasure, he wanting to come so badly he was ready to scream with it.

Dracula made a growling sound right into the messy kiss they shared and his hand tightened again in Geralt’s hair. It wasn’t even a surprise when power started pushing into Geralt around the kiss; the heat and rage of it burned down his throat like sweet, painful ecstasy and set his body ablaze. 

He was vaguely aware of being rolled over and of Dracula settling on top of him. Hands pushed between his legs, between the cheeks of his ass. Geralt swallowed, struggling to keep up with the flood of power. His skin felt like nothing but one bare nerve as cool, slick fingers pushed into him. A moan ripped out of him, ragged and breathless. The sound of it was nearly lost in the kiss and the power flowing between them, and he felt himself spill against his own belly. He didn’t know if he came, or if he was still coming in one long, unbroken orgasm. There was only pleasure, the burn of unquenchable thirst, and desire wrecking him.

There were hands on his wrists keeping them pressed into the bed above his head, and fingers in his ass, slicking him up and stretching him. It was all so much. Too much, yet not enough at the same time. His cock was still hard, his skin sensitive, and his balls tight and aching, so close to another release.

Locking his knees around Dracula’s hips was an instinct by now, and the only thing to do when Dracula was over him. When the cool fingers withdrew and a hot, thick head pressed against his hole, he could only moan. 

Dracula didn’t wait, didn't tease. He just pushed in, slow and merciless, stretching Geralt to fit and sending a thousand spikes of pleasure through his body. 

Geralt opened his mouth to make noise, to say something, but he couldn't. Not with Alucard suddenly there to kiss him, deep and wet as he plunged his tongue inside. It was all Geralt could do to suck on it. He was too lost in the sensation of Dracula slowly fucking into him, of their bellies pressed so close that his cock rubbed between them. 

Then Alucard’s wet hand was there, wrapping around Geralt’s aching length and pulling, jerking him off. Between the power, the waiting, and the fucking, Geralt had no chance. He locked up and came; his vision whited out as his cock spurted his release all over them all again.

It was all too fast, too much. 

His mind didn't even have the time to process it, and his body was still twitching and spasming. His arms shook and fought against the grip holding them tight to the bed, and soon he realized it wasn’t stopping. Dracula was still fucking into Geralt, slowly, pushing in and stretching him until his balls hit Geralt’s ass. Then he pulled out, equally slowly, making Geralt feel every thick inch of him. The stretch, the drag of it, felt so good. Each thrust just served to extend his orgasm. Alucard’s finger was around Geralt’s cock and his thumb was at the head, rubbing the wetness in; it was a sweet torture and it pulled groan after groan out of him.

“You have been so good,” Dracula said tightly. He transferred Geralt's wrists to just one hand and gripped his knee with the free hand. 

Damn, it was always such a turn on to witness Dracula's strength. Being on the receiving end of it was a different kind of a turn on. Dracula’s casual manhandling made Geralt feel vulnerable, fragile almost. There was nothing he could do physically to stop him. Hell, even Alucard in close quarters was too strong to overwhelm by sheer strength alone. Not that he wanted to stop them, but the danger of being a plaything for two such powerful men was driving a spike of lust straight through his belly.

Dracula pushed Geralt’s knee up, opening him up obscenely, and Geralt loved that even more. He gasped into the stretch, into the pressure and push of Dracula’s thick cock going in even deeper in the new position.

“You have been so good for me,” Dracula said softly. “Such a brave witcher, coming to save me, killing for me.” He thrust harder. His cock dragged over Geralt’s prostate and caused shivers to raise up all along his spine. 

Alucard wasn’t letting go, either. He jerked Geralt’s cock slowly; his grip was so slick, sliding sweetly, torturously over that already hardening length. His mouth was busy too, licking around Geralt’s nipple. He bit down every so often and sucked hard, so hard that Geralt could feel his nipple swell up and stand out, puffy and sensitive.

“You took care of me so well.” Dracula’s voice was a low grumble, and his hips worked harder. Each thrust was deep enough to push the breath right out of Geralt. Heat burned through his body and sweat trickled down his back and his forehead. “Put your mouth on me, fingers inside me where nobody dared before.”

Geralt cursed. His mind snagged on those words despite lust and pleasure threatening to wash away all coherent thought. He had suspected that Dracula hadn’t bottomed before, but hearing that from the man himself was a completely different matter. The surge of power and lust that filled him was a sweet counterpoint to the way his chest swelled with familiar, happy ache, like it was too full to stand.

“Now I’m going to take care of you.” Dracula shifted his angle, pulling Geralt’s knee even higher. On the next thrust he nailed Geralt’s prostate hard enough that Geralt let out an embarrassing squeak and his vision whited out for a brief moment. “I’m going to fuck you, wring you out until your hole is open and sloppy, leaking with my come. I wish I could choose what I heal on you. I would never heal you completely. I would leave all the bruises, all the marks. And your hole.” Dracula’s voice was becoming ragged as he thrust faster, harder, moving Geralt up the bed with every powerful thrust. He was sweating now too, and strands of his black hair stuck to his skin as his eyes burned incandescent red. “I would leave it open and loose, so that you would feel this, me inside you for _days_.”

“Fuck.” Geralt tossed head back and forth. Desire burned through him along with Dracula’s power. Everything was so sensitive. His nipples were all swollen and wet from Alucard’s attention, pebbling up when cool air touched them. His cock was hard and so, so wet, still straining in Alucard’s hand. The end of Alucard’s long hair trailed down Geralt’s side and chest, raising even more goosebumps. He wanted to push back against Dracula’s thrusts but couldn’t, not with how he was held trapped in that unyielding grip.

When he felt Dracula swell up impossibly bigger inside him, he let out a needy whine. The sound dragged out and he twisted in place as Dracula came inside his ass. He could feel it, each pulse, each shot of hot come inside him. He could feel how wet everything became, and could hear the faint squelch that came with each thrust.

That was enough. His body locked up, tightening down on Dracula’s cock, and he spilled his own orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure drowned him, only spurred on by Alucard’s hands and the quiet, low sound of Dracula’s own pleasure. It lasted forever, and when it was over Geralt felt utterly exhausted. 

“Gods,” Geralt muttered shakily. He fell back to the bed again, dropping down from the hard arch he’d tightened into as he came. His thighs trembled at the sensation of Dracula pulling out with a rush of come and oil. Even softening, Dracula was thick enough to cause a whole new riot of shivers.

“Don’t forget about me,” Alucard said. His voice was hoarse and his eyes so blown they were nothing but deep pool of darkness.

Dracula laughed and fell to the side, but he never let go of Geralt’s arms, still keeping him pinned down to the bed like a butterfly.

“Don’t worry,” Dracula said softly, using his free hand to pull Geralt’s head to the side. “We will take good care of you.” 

Then he kissed Geralt. The kiss was all slow drag of teeth and deep licks of his tongue, letting Geralt feel the possessiveness, the desire that still seemed to pour off every inch of the vampire’s body. Dracula was always like that during sex; insatiable and hungry. Nothing seemed enough to slake his lust.

Geralt laughed shakily into the kiss, not too sure he would survive being taken care of by the both of them at once.

He could feel Alucard settling himself between his legs, pushing his knees apart. Those cool hands dragged up the trembling muscle of his thighs.

“I told you---” Alucard’s voice was a rough whisper, and he bent down to lick along the shivering muscle he just touched, “---that I kind of like my Father’s sloppy seconds.” 

Geralt shuddered, both from the words and from the sensation of that soft hair falling over his groin, dragging over his oversensitive cock and shivery skin.

Dracula broke the kiss and turned to look at where Alucard lipped at the insides of Geralt’s thighs; Alucard’s teeth cought skin there every so often but never broke it. Each little nibble made Geralt twitch and pant.

“You said that?” Dracula’s voice did something then. It had dropped registers but also softened at the same time, and a note of amazement and burning hot lust twisted together to create a unique combination.

Alucard didn’t raise his mouth from Geralt’s skin, but his eyes were fixed on Dracula nonetheless.

“I like him open and loose, sloppy with your come and so sensitive he all but flinches at the slightest touch.” Another kiss and nip. Every touch caused Geralt to jerk and start.

“Oh,” Dracula breathed, and Geralt could swear he could _feel_ him getting ideas.

“Alucard,” Geralt said. His voice cracked on a shiver as Alucard’s fingers ghosted over his wet hole. “I keep forgetting how much trouble you are.”

“It’s the pretty face,” Dracula said almost ruefully. “Everybody falls for it.” The way he spoke made Geralt think he counted himself among the ‘everyone’. “You should have told me you wanted him wrecked.” Now Dracula sounded a little reproachful. His hand slid over Geralt’s chest. His thumbs caught on the still swollen nipples before moving down his messy belly and then to his spent cock. “I wouldn’t have gone so easy on him.”

“Oh fuck,” Geralt managed to gasp out. 

Dracula continued as if he hadn’t heard the exclamation. “But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” 

Geralt laughed breathlessly, because Dracula was the only person he ever met that could make the sweetest promises sound like threats.

Then Dracula sealed his lips over Geralt’s and breathed more power into him, lighting his skin ablaze and reawakening the barely slacked lust. Goosebumps exploded along his skin, and his nipples pebbled so hard they _ached_ as the endless, burning want filled him again. He was all but used to the pain that came with the power; his body had already learned that the pain meant orgasms in the near future. His heartbeat tripped and then tripled, and blood roared in his ears as his cock hardened rapidly under Dracula’s touch.

The burst of power pouring into him didn’t last long. It was just enough to drive his body into overdrive and make his heart thud painfully in his chest, setting him back on the edge.

“Is this how we’re are going to play it?” Geralt rasped, swallowing through a dry throat.

“Very much so,” Alucard confirmed. He pushed two of his fingers inside Geralt and bent down to deliver a wet lick with the flat of his tongue to Geralt’s cock and Dracula’s fingers alike. He licked from root to head and sucked at the tip briefly, all while Dracula angled Geralt’s cock helpfully.

Pleasure and oversensitivity fought together and sent sparks of sensation up and down Geralt’s back, making him arch, curse, and clamp down on the fingers invading him. 

Alucard didn’t seem to want to wait any longer. He crawled in close and pushed Geralt’s legs over his shoulders. Then he pressed in with his cock at Geralt’s wet hole. It went in easy, the way already well slicked for him. That smooth slide made Geralt arch his neck up, and he moaned at the feel of Alucard sinking so deep on the first thrust. Deep enough he could feel them pressed groin to groin as he bottomed out. He panted, all but bent in half by Alucard.

“Can you hear it?” Alucard asked, his voice tight. He pulled out, slow, until the head of his cock was pulling at Geralt’s rim. He stayed there, balancing on the edge of too much and not enough. It was torture to sit there, unable to do anything, pinned in every possible way. Geralt shifted minutely in place and wished he could move more. But there wasn’t leverage at all; between Dracula and Alucard he couldn’t so much as twitch. 

Then Alucard pushed in, steady and so deep that Geralt was sure he could feel him _in his throat_. 

“The sound of his come squelching when I get inside you?”

Geralt all but choked, both on lust and incredulous laughter, shocked that Alucard was the one to get this brutally descriptive. Somehow it was behavior he expected more from Dracula. The worst, best part of it was that, yes, he could. He could very much hear the wet sound on every thrust, could feel how wetness smeared between his legs and how it dripped down his crack, probably messed up the pretty sheets. 

“Bad habits. You keep picking them all up.” Geralt managed to pant between the pounding thrusts. He cast a jaundiced eye to where Dracula smirked above him. “Such a bad influence.”

“Yes,” Dracula confirmed, all but glowing with pride.

Alucard laughed soundlessly, all his breath taken by what he was doing. He pulled out so far that Geralt swore he was going to slip out every time. Then he drove in deep, all the way to the very hilt, jerking Geralt up in the bed to smack against the immovable hold Dracula had on his arms. Geralt whined, the sound echoing in his ears along with his roaring heartbeat. His prostate was taking a pounding; he was already so sensitive that it sent sparks of unbearable pleasure into him with every move Alucard made. 

Dracula wasn’t going any easier on Geralt, jerking him rough and fast, clearly trying to get him to come as quickly as possible. Geralt wanted to squirm. To close his legs or press against Alucard and meet his thrusts, or maybe to get away from them. His body was bombarded by sensation from every corner until he finally gave in, clenching down on Alucard and coming, spilling over Dracula’s fist and yelling his pleasure out. 

Alucard didn’t stop; he only went harder, extending the orgasm again, milking it out of him, and driving Geralt mad with sensation. He cried out when he felt Alucard swell up inside him, felt him press in that one last time and spill hot come into him, adding to what Dracula had left there already.

“I want to take turns,” Alucard said deliriously. His face was flushed and tendrils of hair stuck to his sweaty skin. “I want to see Father take you after me, when you are all oversensitive and squirming. I want to be the one to take you after. Over and over, until you can't stand it anymore.” He circled his hips, pressing deep, and a deeper flush rose high on his cheeks. No color was visible on his irises at all any more. They were solid pools of black. “And I want to lick you clean after, when you are so sloppy we could both fit into you without trouble.”

And Gods, but they did. 

As soon as Alucard pulled out, Dracula was there, spreading Geralt’s legs and pushing in. His cock stretched Geralt even more, driving deep and hard, and utterly without mercy. Whenever Geralt so much as softened, Dracula would breath power into him, forcing him hard again, keeping him wanting and on the edge of orgasm all the time. 

Geralt remembered cursing, gasping, and maybe begging at some point. He had no idea how many times they switched, how many times they fucked him. They always kept his hands pinned above his head, and bit his chest, his nipples, until they were so sensitive that the throbbed with his pulse and he was aware of the slightest shift of air against them. 

He lost track of time, lost track of people. He kept coming, over and over, trying to clench down on the cock inside him. His hole burned with the ache of a good workout; he was too aware of it, of the mess of fluids smeared on his thighs and his ass, and how each time his lover pulled out a rush of fluids escaped with him. His cock was so sensitive that he cried out at the barest brush of fingers, and he nearly passed out when Alucard got his mouth around him and sucked.

It was Alucard who gave in first. He slumped against Geralt’s chest after his last orgasm, not moving beyond lipping slowly at Geralt’s chest. Geralt was mostly unconscious by that point, so wrung out that the brief respite was enough for him to begin to drift off. He was peripherally aware of Dracula’s warm hands caressing both him and Alucard, his low voice murmuring praise and lulling them to sleep.

\---

Eskel was back in chains. 

His arms were bound behind his back, so tight that he couldn’t feel them at all, and he sat on his knees. The room was so dark that the shadows seemed to almost be living things, creeping through the cold stone under him. No matter how he thrashed or struggled, he couldn’t get free. Couldn’t even move. All he could do was watch.

Everything was numb. He should be aching with pain after weeks and weeks of being beaten, but all he could feel was a pulsing cold. Fear was a living thing inside of him; it clawed at his guts and chased every sane thought out of him. 

He couldn’t escape. He would _never_ escape. 

As soon as he thought he might start to go mad with the cold and the silence, footsteps slowly worked their way towards him. Eskel couldn’t see into the dark, not even to see the other side of the room. That didn’t matter, though, because he knew what was on the other side of the room. Steingard’s lab. The experiment table. Walls full of potions and poisons and knives of every size. The scents of blood and fire filled his nose and Eskel’s heart was beating so hard that it felt like a stabbing pain. 

He couldn’t escape. 

Soon enough, Steingard was there. Smiling. Happy, even. 

“Oh, my witcher friend,” he said ruefully. “You’ve given me quite a run for my money. But not to worry. Everything has gone according to plan.” 

Eskel shook his head, or tried to. Something was holding his head still. He tried to scream or moan or to say something, _anything_ , but the metal thing was in his mouth. Keeping him silent and leaving him open to whatever Steingard had in mind. 

Sheer terror rose up within. _He couldn’t escape_. 

“Didn’t I tell you that the process took a few days?” Steingard smiled again, slow and sweet. “Once it’s started, it can’t be stopped. And I’ll have your skin as a trophy.”

A tiny shining blade quivered in one of Steingard’s hands. The other hand trailed down Eskel’s face. Fingers pushed and prodded his head around as Steingard looked for just the right spot. 

The screams were trapped inside. He couldn’t even breathe. 

One gloved thumb traced the hollow of his eye and then paused to dig in. 

“Here, maybe,” Steingard mused. “Yes, I think I’ll start here.”

Eskel tried to shake his head. He was all but crying with the fear of it. It was illogical, he knew it was, but he couldn't help it. The fear was a living being, expanding and growing like nothing he ever felt before. There was no training, no control. In that moment he was terrified like he had never been in his life. Steingard was going to carve him up, empty him out, and make him a puppet. And there was nothing he could do. 

The knife hovered so close to his eye that he could feel the edge of the blade brush against his lashes. He strained and panted against it, desperate to get away. To stop everything.

 _He could not escape_.

“Now be a good witcher, and take it.”

The blade speared right into his eye.

Eskel woke up with a jerk. His skin was beaded with cold sweat and heart pounded in his ears faster than any drumbeat. 

He was all twisted up in his bed sheets and a massive purple Yrden sign glowed around him, spread out in a circle with him at the center. Eskel rubbed a hand down his face, and worked on slowing his breath. Tremors raced through him as he tried to piece things together in his mind. 

Steingard was dead. Geralt had killed him. They were in Dracula’s castle. A quick glance around the room proved that he was in the same room that he’d fallen asleep in. After spending several hours wearing out the lovely Iga and Eyra, he’d fallen into an exhausted slumber on the plush bed. He couldn’t remember casting the Yrden; he must have laid the magical trap around himself as a reflex reaction from the nightmare. 

Because that’s was what that was. A nightmare.

 _Fuck_.

He rested his shaking arms on his knees and bowed his head. After the last few weeks, Eskel knew that there would be some consequences to what he’d gone through. Alucard’s soothing power had kept it at bay for longer than he could have hoped for.

 _Fucking nightmares_ , he thought bitterly to himself. _The fuck is wrong with me? So I got beaten, stretched, and starved for a few weeks, and then had to watch some asshat with a god complex monologue. It could have been a million times worse. Steingard could have actually gotten somewhere with his little plan._

Shame and unhappiness mixed in with the lingering fear from the dream. At least Iga and Eyra had left already. It would be so much more awkward to wake from a nightmare with someone else in the room. 

At least he was alone. 

That thought was more bitter than comforting. As embarrassing and uncomfortable as Dracula’s presence and power had been, Eskel had to admit to himself that being wrapped in the vampire’s arms and power had been something he was desperate for. It was a solace, the only saving grace of this whole fucking awful time.

He laughed bitterly at how quickly he got spoiled. He was used to being alone on the Path. It was a witcher’s way. To live and die alone. And then came Alucard with his stoned cuddles, closely followed by Dracula and his uncomfortably sexually charged power. Before he realized, Eskel started craving that connection, craving touch and comfort. Eskel got _spoiled_. He got _soft_.

He ruthlessly cut off those feelings. It was pointless to want something he couldn’t have. Pointless and painful.

Instead he shook his head again, dismissed the Yrden trap, and got up. A quick examination of the room revealed a washroom adjacent to the bed. With shaking hands he relieved himself and got somewhat cleaned up, hopeful that the cold water would help chase away the lingering terror. 

No such fucking luck. 

Next to the bed were sleeping clothes. His own once-filthy pants and shirt were there, too, freshly cleaned and ready to wear again. Eskel thought he might burn them. The sleeping clothes were soft and dark grey; he didn’t bother with the shirt, but he put on the pants.

Restless energy filled him up and the specter of the nightmare lingered in his mind. The mad grin on Steingard’s face. The way Eskel was frozen in place. The sheer inevitability of it all. It ate at him as he paced around the room.

It was all so fucking stupid. He was a fool and a weakling. He shouldn’t be so damn _scared_. Briefly, Eskel cursed the loss of his weapons once more. Just having his swords in hand would have gone leagues towards making him feel safer. But they were long gone. Who the fuck even knew if they survived Dracula slagging the place?

Anger and shame swirled around mixing with the fear and pain. 

He stood in front of the fireplace for a moment, trying to feel comfort from the heat. Or maybe at least feel a bit impressed with the elaborate mantle decoration. But all he felt was aching fear and hurt. He couldn’t stand there looking at the fire; his back was too exposed. 

_Nothing bad would ever happen to me here_ , he tried to remind himself. _Dracula wouldn’t allow it_. 

That didn’t stop the clawing anxiety. He ended up rummaging through the pile of clothes, and found the one last shitty dagger that Geralt had looted for him. At least it was something. 

First he tried pacing again, but upset forced him to stop. He couldn’t deal with it. The room was too big, too open, and each footstep sounded like Steingard stepping closer. 

Stupid as it felt, Eskel headed to a corner of the room and hunkered down. At least there were stone walls at his back, and he could see the door from where he sat. Not that he was looking, because as soon as he sat down he buried his head in his knees again, dagger in hand. 

His skin fucking crawled, and the sheer weight of how alone he was sunk in. It bled in his chest like a wound, painful and hot. All the while he couldn’t stop cursing himself. This was stupid. Foolish. He shouldn’t be afraid. Hell, he shouldn’t even feel bad at being alone. 

He curled in tighter on himself and waited to stop feeling like shit. Maybe if he gave it enough time, he’d just shake off whatever weakness this was. Deep down, he knew it was far more likely that he’d just get to a point where he’d need to carry on. He’d just bury it all down where no one could see and it wouldn’t matter, and he’d get up and go back to the Path. Walk it off. 

For the time being, though, he sat in misery and pain.

_Stupid. Weak._

His eyes hurt and his fingers dug into his skin.

Something tickled along his senses, catching his awareness. Power, dark and familiar, gathered up in the room. Eskel looked up in time to see a pool of black shadow seep up from the floor in long ribbons. Each little tendril of darkness snaked in on itself as it rose, weaving around and building up into a shape.

 _Fuck._ He knew who that would be.

Eskel couldn’t tell if it was relief or embarrassment that flooded him. Either way, he didn’t want to be caught looking so ruined. He scrubbed his face with one hand and tried to at least pretend to be calm.

It only took another few heartbeats for glowing red eyes to resolve in the pillar of shadow, and Dracula’s body formed after that. The shadow just solidified, drawing in and changing into the figure that Eskel had come to know so well. 

Dracula looked perfect as ever. His long red coat was pristine and his chest was smooth and flawless with tiny blue veins visible under the pale skin. Every bit of metal armor gleamed in the dim light, reflecting the flames from the fireplace. Even his gaze was heavy with the same weighted examination that he seemed to level on everything. 

As stupid as it felt to be huddled in a corner of the room, Eskel knew that scrambling to get up would look even more foolish. Best just ride it out and pretend that everything was alright. That way Dracula could go back to fucking Geralt and Alucard into next week, and Eskel could panic in peace. That was generously assuming that Dracula even gave a shit about whatever was going on with Eskel. Maybe he was just there to tell him it was time to go.

“This isn’t going to be comfortable here,” Dracula said with a displeased frown.

Eskel frowned, squinting in confusion. “...Huh?”

Dracula looked around the room, his red eyes catching onto the messy bed and staying there.

“Right,” he said. Dracula turned on his heel and strode towards the bed, making his coat flare dramatically out behind him. Once there, he climbed on and laid down on his back and pushed one of the pillows under his head. After he made himself comfortable he looked at Eskel, frozen stupid in his corner, and made a vague gesture towards him.

“Well?”

Another shot of panic went through Eskel, this time thoroughly laced with embarrassment. He pressed himself farther into the corner. His eyes were wide with worry. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing towards any available exits. The hell was Dracula thinking? What was he _offering_?

Dracula frowned at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Eskel licked his lips as he tried to pull together something that sounded sane. “I don’t understand.” Not precisely coherent, but it would have to work because Eskel was mighty damn confused. He tried again. “What are you doing?”

“The same thing I have been doing for the last week.” Dracula huffed. Eskel couldn’t help but eye how his powerful chest expanded with the breath. “Making myself available for a cuddle.”

“But that’s done.” Eskel knew he sounded hurt and confused. The awful pain and fear and anger inside of him had cracked open and he couldn't stop it from spilling out. “You did what was needed and you got what you wanted, and now it’s done. You’ve got Alucard and Geralt to hold.”

Dracula smiled and his eyes glowed brighter for a moment. 

“Yes, yes I do. I took care of both them already. Not sure Geralt could take any more even with me breathing power into him,” he mused, and there was a definite edge of pride to his voice. “Could have had some more fun with Alucard maybe. He’s the sturdier one of those two.”

“Nooo, I don’t need to know,” Eskel groaned softly, burying his head in his knees again. Why couldn’t he just suffer in peace? Why did Dracula have to show up and start to tell him details?

“Huh.” Dracula had the absolute gall to sound confused. “I thought you were asking.” The red eyes slid to him briefly. “You did ask about me holding them.”

That made Eskel sigh. Maybe he had worded it wrong. “I should have been clearer. I don’t really want to know what you three did. I’m just confused about why you’re here and not with them.” He looked up to Dracula, suddenly completely, ridiculously tired. Everything hurt and the bitter self loathing felt as awful as Steingard’s poison.

“They are asleep,” Dracula said matter of factly.

“Then why aren’t you asleep with them?” Eskel asked, annoyed. This was starting to feel like some kind of test that he was failing.

Dracula was silent for a moment.

“I dislike sleep.”

That made Eskel raise his eyebrows in surprise. Not only that Dracula would dislike it, but that he would even bring it up. From what little Eskel knew of Dracula, he always seemed to speak the truth. Probably because he just didn’t care enough about anything to lie.

Echoes of the earlier nightmare shivered through him, and Eskel rested his forehead on his arm. He turned his head sideways so he could keep an eye on Dracula, but it felt nice to lay his head down. “Yeah.” The word was filled with sorrowful understanding, and Dracula could take it as he liked. 

“I’m not doing this on the floor,” Dracula said testily, folding his hands against his stomach. “Certainly not in my own castle. I’m not an animal.”

“Wait, what?”

“You have a choice here. You either get on this bed under your own power, or I put you here.”

The panic was back full force again, and Eskel stiffened up. All of his previous encounters like this had ended with the double hammer of power being breathed into him and the bite draining it back out. What was most alarming was that Eskel had no idea why Dracula would be here.

“You…” He swallowed hard and shifted in place. This was a trick. Or something awful was going to happen. “You want to cuddle?” he asked, somewhat desperately. It sounded nice. Most assuredly too good to be true.

“No,” Dracula said in a voice thick with sarcasm. “I came here to admire your ceiling.” He gestured at the admittedly really pretty ceiling with frescoes of mountains painted on it.

Normally, Eskel would have a cutting remark of his own to make, but he was just too damn worn out. For whatever reason, Dracula had decided now was the time to torment him. “Please go away.” _At least let me suffer alone._

“Can’t do that,” Dracula said in a curiously amused voice. “It seems you made your choice,” he added after a second. 

He _smirked_ at Eskel.

Then the whole world went _insane_. The edges of the room, the furniture, and reality itself blurred and melted like paint mixed with water, running down the drain. All sounds went away, all smells just ceased to exist, throwing Eskel’s senses into a spin. He gasped, somehow sure there wouldn't be even any air to breathe, but his lungs filled in regardless. When he blinked the shifting colors from his eyes he realized he was still in his room, but the perspective was changed. Instead of sitting in a corner, he was now on top of the bed. Or rather, the bed was under him. Dracula was still insolently sprawled on top it. Only now he was right beside Eskel, so close that Eskel could feel the heat of Dracula’s body pressed against his hip.

“Witchers,” Dracula sighed, and reached his hand to the back of Eskel’s neck and grabbed hold. 

The grip wasn't painful, but Eskel’s instinctive flail did nothing to jerk him away from it. With easy, impossible strength, Dracula pulled Eskel down and pressed his face right in to Dracula’s chest. Whatever Dracula’s motives, he clearly didn’t have Eskel’s comfort in mind. His cheek was squished up against Dracula’s pale, warm skin, and his back was bowed strangely to try and accommodate the grip. Eskel had to shift around and straighten out just to ease the bend in his spine, ending up laying flush against Dracula’s body. He did try to push himself up and away for a moment, but the grip on his neck was unyielding and completely unbreakable.

His whole body burned with embarrassment, and he dimly realized that he was still clutching his shitty dagger in one hand. That seemed utterly pointless given the circumstances, but he still wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. A very large part of him wanted to melt into the comfort Dracula was offering, but he was still so upset and confused. 

Eskel floundered for a moment longer, and then finally tried to move his face so he was hiding a little into Dracula’s chest. Whatever was going on, this felt like comfort. Dracula was just holding him. Quietly, firmly. Under all the embarrassment and anxiety and complete fucking confusion about what was going on, being touched in any way was a sweet relief. Eskel found himself leaning in, just a little. His free hand twitched as he tried to figure out what to do with it.

Surrounded by Dracula’s scent, his power and his castle, and with his casual rearrangement of reality here, it was difficult for Eskel to hold onto the irrational fear leftover from the nightmare. It was hard to imagine Steingard being terrifying or even holding any kind of power in a place like this, where Dracula’s being permeated the very stones it was built with. With every second he spent laying squished against Dracula’s side, the dream that haunted Eskel seemed to fade. The emotions it had raised up bled slowly away, and with that, the tension fled his body as well.

“Can I move?” Eskel asked eventually. He was rapidly becoming aware of how the armored parts of Dracula’s coat pressed into his flesh uncomfortably.

“That depends,” Dracula said after a moment.

“On what?”

“Will I have to fetch you again?”

Heat burned at Eskel’s cheeks, and he shook his head. “I just need to resituate,” he grumbled quietly. “Your armor is hard.”

He tried to remember how both Dracula and Alucard seemed completely immune to embarrassment, their own or others. 

Dracula hummed but eased the grip he had on Eskel.

Cautiously, Eskel pulled himself up a bit and shoved the dagger under a pillow. Little chance he’d need it now, and no chance it would actually do any kind of damage anyways. He looked up and down Dracula’s body and tried to figure out where to fit in. Dracula’s hand was still on his neck, warm and firm, and Eskel tried not to think about how wonderful it would feel if it was running through his hair. 

“Would you…” He hesitated. What he really wanted was to be covered up in Dracula’s scent, to be held and to be warm, but he still felt like he was asking for something forbidden. He tugged at Dracula’s coat, trying to urge him to turn. “Would you lay on your side? So I can…” 

He couldn’t even finish the damn sentence. When he was beaten and bloody and waiting in terror for his torturers to come back, this had been easier. All of his extra worries had been stripped away by that point, and it had seemed ridiculous to not ask for exactly what he wanted. It was much, much harder now, when Eskel had to actually think about things.

“Hmm.” Dracula narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then he shifted, rolling them both over on the large bed until Eskel was laid out on his back. His breath was promptly pushed right out of him as Dracula’s bulk sprawled on top of him. “Yes.”

Eskel let out a completely undignified squeak as Dracula pressed down on him even more. But his tension quickly fled. Everything smelled like burning embers, blood, and power, and Dracula’s warm coat flared out over them both, blocking out the rest of the room. He couldn’t help but nose into Dracula’s neck, finally feeling safe again. 

“I shouldn’t want this,” he mumbled. His skin buzzed with the sensation of being wrapped up in Dracula’s warm body. He wasn’t alone. The thought shook him. “I shouldn’t still be hurt.”

“Who cares what you should and shouldn’t want?” Dracula was making himself comfortable squishing Eskel, his body like a relaxed, heavy blanket. Eskel couldn’t help but feel that if he was just a normal human, rather than an enhanced witcher, he would suffocate under the weight of all that muscle and armor.

Eskel tried to huff with laughter, but it came out a little weak. “I had a nightmare,” he admitted. “It was stupid. I…”

“In my experience, nightmares are often all too real,” Dracula said slowly, shifting over Eskel for a better position. He slid down, until his hand was braced on Eskel’s chest with his head resting there next to it. From how his face was turned, Eskel could only really see the top of his head.

“Yes.” And that was the kicker of it. The nightmare felt real. “I’m afraid this one is gonna last a while. The last time I’d been strung up like this…” He shook his head, unwilling to think on it further. There were only so many nightmares he could deal with at once. “It took a while for them to fade.” 

Years, in fact. He wasn’t looking forward to a repeat performance.

“Steingard is dead and he’s not coming back,” Dracula said. His voice was soft and closest to relaxed Eskel had ever heard it.

“My head knows that.” But Eskel knew himself well enough to know that his anxiety would be another damn story. Whatever. He’d deal with it like he always did. 

He slid his hands up under Dracula’s coat and held on, crushing them closer together. Another deep breath filled his head up with the scent of Dracula’s power, something that was now intrinsically linked with safety in Eskel’s mind. 

Time slowed as he soaked in Dracula’s warmth. The weight on top of him was both soothing and comforting, and Eskel found himself melting further into relaxation. He ran one lazy hand up and down Dracula’s back under that heavy coat, relishing the firm muscles there. Being wrapped up in Dracula’s, or even Alucard’s, embrace wasn’t like anything else. He could feel the strength there, and now he could even sense the power pressing into his skin. Eskel didn’t feel caged. He felt protected. Treasured, even.

His new position allowed him to be the first one to see the small bird made of light that soared through the locked door. Once it got to the bed, it proceeded to fly tiny circles above above them.

“There’s a bird,” Eskel said sleepily, staring at the pretty thing.

Dracula pushed himself up on his arms and looked over his shoulder, his dark hair falling into Eskel’s face.

“Oh,” he said after he caught sight of the bird. “Alucard is coming.”

Anxiety threatened to climb back up Eskel’s spine, but it was a paltry effort. The bone deep relaxation had filled him up too thoroughly. It wasn’t quite like being high on Alucard’s power, but he thought he might be a little drunk on all the wonderful touching. “Oh. They’ll be alright with this, right? With you being here?”

He wasn’t so much worried about Alucard; that man loved to cuddle. Geralt, though, he was a touch more concerned about. And where Alucard went, Geralt was soon to follow. 

“I don’t see why it would be an issue. We are not having sex after all.” Dracula shifted to cast Eskel a probing look. “Unless something changed?”

Eskel tilted his head in confusion. “I’m still not interested in screwing any of you. I’m just…confused, I guess. I thought this, you being close like this, was just a short term thing. Just part of what you needed to do to make your plan work. I think in that situation, Geralt would forgive a lot.”

“Huh.” Dracula sounded like he completely couldn't understand Eskel but was willing to accept him as he was. “Then there’s no problem.”

Eskel nodded, willing himself calm, and held Dracula a little tighter. He would get the most out of this while he could. No telling when it would happen again. Though Dracula’s general demeanor suggested this could be a regular event. He tried not to pin his hopes too high. “Good things never last,” he said under his breath.

When the door creaked open and Alucard stepped into the room, Eskel could just see him in his peripheral vision. Unlike Dracula, he was wearing different clothes. He sported a white shirt that clung to his chest in interesting ways and soft grey pants, made from some kind of thin, stretchy material. His hair was messy and falling all over the place, and his eyes were half closed with obvious sleepiness. Unlike Dracula, he also all but _reeked_ of sex. Eskel could smell it clear across the room.

Alucard didn’t even pause; he just made a beeline for the bed and crawled onto it without so much as a greeting. Once on the bed, he cast an assessing look over Dracula and Eskel, very clearly looking for a place for himself, and then decided to plaster himself to Dracula’s left side. Eskel could feel the bed shift under his weight as he crawled across to them, and then Alucard’s leg brushing his as the younger vampire settled himself on his side.

“Was cold,” Alucard muttered, rubbing his face into Dracula’s shoulder and making a grumpy noise. “Take off,” he grumbled as Dracula shifted his arm to wrap it around Alucard and pull him closer.

The coat flaked off into tiny motes of shadow before fading away completely, leaving Dracula bare chested. Alucard snuggled into the revealed skin with a happy little sigh, his foot hooking around Eskel’s shin, and then apparently dropped off to sleep.

A tiny huff of laughter escaped from Eskel, and he shifted one arm around so that it was pressed against Alucard’s chest. He couldn’t quite angle things to where he could actually get a hold, but he could get contact at least. With careful fingers he twined his hand through a lock of Alucard’s hair. 

“You wore him out,” Eskel said softly, trying not to wake Alucard.

“He wore _himself_ out,” Dracula said with fierce pride in his voice. “He had the most amazing ideas today.”

Eskel snorted softly. “He’s a planner.”

Despite the smell of sex, having Alucard’s frost and fur scent mix in with Dracula’s power was soothing in its own right. Alucard was cuddly as hell, and Eskel secretly loved every chance he got to spend time with him. It felt like a rare treat to have both Dracula and Alucard snuggled into him.

“You should tell your castle to _not_ send me walking through the garden, _twice_ , every time I try to find you,” Geralt said grumpily as he pushed the door to Eskel’s bedroom open much more roughly than what was strictly necessary.

“Hi,” Eskel said weakly, more than a little chagrined to have accidentally lured away both of Geralt’s lovers away from him. 

Then he got a good look at Geralt, and he had to blink. Geralt looked _wrecked_. He was wearing soft looking sleeping pants, similar to what Eskel had on, and it seemed he decided to go bare chested too. From the look of him, Eskel could see why. Bruises lined his arms, darkest around his wrists. Even from this distance Eskel would see the clear fingermarks on them, as if Geralt was held down by force. By someone strong enough to bruise a witcher with their bare hands. His chest was littered with bites and hickeys, and his nipples were puffed up and red. As if somebody took their sweet time wrecking them. And he was…walking a little bow legged.

“Holy hell.” Eskel was both impressed and sort of concerned.

“Two lovers,” Geralt grumbled as he walked gingerly towards the bed. “And not a single body to cuddle to.”

Eskel winced. Maybe if he’d been a little less pathetic than Geralt wouldn’t have cause to be annoyed. 

“We have to cuddle Eskel too,” Alucard murmured, mostly asleep.

“Hmmm.” Dracula narrowed his eyes. “Maybe closer rooms.”

Geralt just rolled his eyes, and grabbed one of the blankets that had been shoved near the bottom of the bed. The closer he got, the better Eskel could see all those marks. And smell the sex. It was obvious Geralt made an effort to clean himself up, but he still smelled like a regular whorehouse, and not one of the better ones either.

Gods, no wonder Dracula sounded so smug. 

The damage was enough that Eskel had to ask, “...Are you alright?” He glanced to from Dracula’s amused face to Alucard’s sleepy one, then back to Geralt. “Do I need to lecture these two on taking care of their---” he almost said _possessions_ , but stopped himself just in time, “---lover?”

Geralt laughed, a bit of a blush raising up on his cheeks. “I’m good, don’t worry.” He crawled onto the bed himself, wincing as aches made themselves known but at the same time looking pleased to have those aches. “I see you got the bottom spot today?”

Now it was Eskel’s turn to blush. “Yeah. I…wasn’t feeling great.” A great euphemism for spine melting terror. “Dracula came to help.”

“Dracula is good for that,” Geralt said, stretching on their other side and pulling the blankets over them. “Kinda larger than life.” He burrowed in under the arm Dracula offered him and slid right up next to Eskel. “Hard to remember that anything else other than him exists.” 

If Geralt wanted to say anything more, he never got a chance. Dracula reeled him in and kissed him, slow and possessive, making pleased little sounds deep in his throat all the while.

“Geralt,” Dracula said softly after the kiss ended. The name sounded like a praise in and of itself with the way his voice curled around it, all dark and pleased.

Eskel’s eyes burned a little at Geralt’s easy acceptance and apt description. He squirmed just enough so he could bump his head against Geralt’s; that was about all he had space for. At this point he was well and truly crushed under the three of them. 

He’d never felt warmer or safer.

It only took a moment for Geralt to fall back asleep, too, though Eskel could see that Dracula was still awake. There was a softness to his gaze as looked at his lover. A peace. It made Eskel smile, just a tiny tugging at his lips. For all that it seemed Dracula had gone through, he was glad that the man had found as much joy as Geralt seemed to. A glance over to Alucard’s peaceful face made him amend that thought. All three of them had found something quite special. 

A new thought occurred to him.

“I get new swords now,” he whispered softly in excitement. He sorely missed his old blades, but the prospect of new ones made him practically vibrate with glee. 

Dracula transferred his gaze to Eskel.

“I’ll take you shopping after we rest,” Dracula promised. After a moment of thought, he added, “Hope they take gold as payment.”

That made Eskel furrow his brow. Who didn’t take gold as payment? He cast off his worries almost immediately. Merchants were always happy to take gold, and if not then Dracula would figure out something.

“Clothes too,” Dracula added unexpectedly. “Geralt has prettier ones than you. You clearly can’t be trusted with selecting them.”

“Armor,” Eskel muttered happily, still thinking of all the lovely chainmail and leather options he’d have to choose from. “Boots and daggers.” He paused. “The potions will be harder to replace. I’ll have to find the damn flowers, then brew for a week…Wait, clothes? Dracula…with my face no one is looking at my clothes.” 

Dracula hummed speculatively. “I’m looking forward to you modelling all the options for me. I might even get something for Geralt or Alucard while we are doing that.” Dracula nodded a little to himself. “Yes, that would work best.”

“Wait, what now?” That was concerning. Very concerning. “You realize we don’t really have need for fine things? Or, hell, even much place to put them.”

“Sleep now,” Dacula ordered. “I will ask Geralt’s sorceress tomorrow where to find the best shops.”

Oh Gods. 

This couldn’t end well. 

He buried his nose into Dracula’s hair, and breathed in his scent. After a second soothing breath, he asked, “Could we do this, the holding and touching, again sometime?”

“Of course,” Dracula rumbled. “You are one of mine now.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Dracula’s statement should have been terrifying, but all Eskel felt was relief. He nodded, closed his eyes, and settled in. Whatever crazy thing Dracula had planned tomorrow, he could deal with it then. 

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Spoiler Notes** :  
> There are some graphic depictions of torture, both physical and psychological. Also, in the real world, it is not okay for someone to insist on physical contact with anyone when they do not consent. Even if the person forcing that contact thinks it is beneficial to the person they are forcing themselves on. In this story, Dracula has magic bullshit powers that both help Eskel and allow Dracula to know when Eskel is in need of physical contact but won't admit it. And it's all still pretty fucked up. But somehow, still pretty sweet and fluffy despite all the tags. So...I guess, remember that fantasy is fantasy, and read at your own risk.


End file.
